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GRACE GOLD. 



2KDW IP® £BIE IMIPIRI 



A COLLECTION OF BEAUTIFUL LESSONS INTENDED TO IN- 
SPIRE NOBLE THOUGHTS AND ACTIONS, AND EN- 
ABLE ONE TO BECOME USEFUL, LOVABLE, 
HAPPY AND WISE. 



BY 



GRACE SOLD; 



- -. 



/ , 



Author of "The Lost Memorandum," "Vows," "Every 

Day Life," "Sowing and Reaping," "Bible 

Christians," etc., etc. 



AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO THE 

YOUNG PEOPLE OF AMERICA. 



PUBLISHED BY 

F. & M. FRINK, 

VALPARAISO, IND. 



V 0C1 18 1833 



**. 



WAS 



*** 






** 



\0 



Copyright, 1893, 

BY MRS. MARIA FRITCK. 

All Rights Reserved. 



PRESS OF B. F. PERRINE, 
VALPARAISO, IND. 



^1^^^^ *^- 






mmw^&: 




V 






Zl/E^Y parent in the land desires their children to be 
happy. 

No matter how bitter their own life has been, or 
how much anguish their own heart has known, they 
desire their offspring to escape these sorrows and Avould 
gladly see them placed where they could obtain peace, 
prosperity and happiness. 

The author of this work does not claim she has dis- 
covered a new method whereby one can step from mis- 
ery to happiness at a single bound, but she does claim 
there are certain laws which govern our lives for good 
or evil as we will, and in a sense we make our own 
-destiny. 

Happiness is what we are all seeking; but alas, how 
few find, or finding are able to retain it. 

To be truly happy one must be loved ; and to be loved, 
one must be lovable; and again, to be lovable one must 
in some way be useful, must possess something valua- 
ble in the eyes of others. It is the object of this book 



to give bv its lessons, such information, as, if studied 
and practiced will enable one to become so useful and 
lovable that their society will be sought, others bene- 
fitted, prosperity will come and they will in spite of 
circumstances or surroundings live a truly beautiful life. 

The author has spared no pains to obtain this valua- 
ble collection, many of which are the productions of 
the most celebrated writers. 

Credit has been o-iyen each one so far as they were 
known, but no hesitancy has been made to use an ar- 
ticle whose merit justifies its being' placed in this work 
although the author was unknown, for we fully believe 
any one whom God has given the wonderful gift of 
touching; human hearts as is indicated bv these lessons 
are willing the)' shall be placed where they can be the 
means of encouraging, elevating and purifying human- 
ity. 

THE AUTHOR. 




"GREETING.*' 



|ear Young People: I love you all, and desire you 
| J to be happy, not only in this world, but in the 
world to come. 
The secret of being happy is to be good. Realizing 
this, and knowing my own life has been made bright 
and in many respects beautiful by the practice of such 
lessons, I take pleasure in coming to you with this hum- 
ble volume laden with precious truths that will teach 
you how to be good and useful, thereby making you a 
blessing to yourselves and those around you. 

This life is so short, and time so precious, I wish I 
could make you see and feel the importance of improv- 
ing - each moment for securing some benefit either for 
yourselves or those around you. So many have good 
resolutions they intend to carry out sometime in the fu- 
ture, but how few are doing their best to-day. Many 
neglect present duties and spend their time building for 
the future, castles without foundations. Dear ones I 
entreat you to attend to the duties of to-day which if 
faithfully performed will make a foundation so strong 
no misfortune can sweep it away. 

Self sacrifice at first seems hard, but becomes at last 
a pleasure by continued practice, so then, "weary not 
in noble doing." 

Hoping the lessons here given may be received in the 
same loving spirit they are given and cause you to make 
a deeper search for useful knowledge, I remain, 

Your earnest friend, 

GRACE GOLD. 



Ihatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are 
™ honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever 
things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any 
virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. 

— Bible. 





THE MPE B00K. 

ijKjAMMA, if I were a woman, 
I llymv ^ * knew as much as you, 
4fe|^ I would write a book," said Lillie,. 
'And I 'd write it good and true. 

"I would make it just like talking, 

As you talked to me last night, 
So that every one who read it 

Would love Jesus and do right." 

"Every one, my love" said mamma, 

"Must at least one book compose ; 
Each must write his own life-story, 

From its drawing to the close. 

"On a new unwritten volume, 

Pure and spotless to the sight, 
Loving ones confer a title, — 

Baby hands begin to write. 

"All through babyhood and childhood,. 

Youth, mid-life and trembling age, 
Still those hands are writing, writing,. 

Never lifting from the page. 

"Every word and every action, 

Rude or gentle, wrong or right, 
In its ugliness or beauty, 

Live upon those pages white. 

"Every deed of love and mercy 

Shines upon those leaflets fair, 
And if one has loved the Saviour 

All his love is written there. 



MVE [FOR SOMETHING, 

fHOUSANDS of men breathe, move and live; pass 
off the stage of life and are heard of no more. 
Why? They did not a particle of good in the 
world; and none were blest by them; none could point 
to them as the instruments of their redemption; not a 
line they wrote, not a word they spoke, could be re- 
called, and so they perish — their light went out in dark- 
ness, and they were not remembered more than the 
insect of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O 
man immortal? Live for something. Do good, and 
leave behind you a monument of virtue that the storm 
of time can never destroy. 

Write your name by kindness, love and mercy, on 
the hearts of the thousands you come in contact with 
year by year, and you will never be forgotten. No; 
your name will be as legible on the hearts you leave 
behind as the star on the brow of the evening. Good 
deeds will shine as bright as the stars of heaven. 



|-|0W P MVE WELL, 

BH, this is a subject of interest to evervbodv. This 
if • 

I is the constant wish of every person of honest 

heart and pure desires. Success or failure in this 

means happiness or misery here, and heaven or hell at 

last. Says a writer; "To live well, economy is neces- 

10 



HOW TO KEEP A SITUATION. 



sary." No matter if persons are rich, or have large 
incomes, they should be economical; for to waste is 
wicked. The master himself taught economy by pre- 
cept and example; the apostles did the same. The first 
Christians led simple and economical lives; "neither 
said any of them aught of the things which he possess- 
ed was his own." They were "bought with a price." 
They and theirs all belonged to their Master, and were 
consecrated to his service. They lived well. Reader, 
if you would live well, go thou and do likewise. 

HOW 10 KEEP « SITUATION. 

jjJE ready to throw in an odd half -hour, or an hour's 
I time when it will be an accommodation, and don 't 
seem to make a merit of it. Do it heartily. Though 
not a word be said your employer will make a note of 
it. Make yourself indispensible to him and he will lose 
many of the opposite kind before he will part with you. 
Those young men who watch the clock to see the very 
second their working hour is up — who leave, no matter 
what state the work may be in, at precisely the instant 
— who calculate the exact amount they can slight their 
work and yet not get reproved — will always be the first 
to receive the notice when times are dull, that their ser- 
vices are no longer required. 



Sin is more to be feared than hell. If people were 
half as anxious to escape the former as they are the lat- 
ter, their lives would be far purer than they are. 

1 1 



r\ W0RKER'8 PRAYER. 

"For I hive received of the Lord that which also I 
delivered unto you." 

ORD, speak to me, that I may speak 
In living echoes of Thy tone ; 
^F* As thou hast sought, so let me seek 
Thy erring children, lost and lone. 

O lead me, Lord ; that I may lead 

The wandering and the wavering feet ; 

O feed me, Lord, that I may feed 

Thy hungering ones with manna sweet. 

strengthen me, that while I stand 
Firm on the rock, and strong in Thee, 

1 may stretch out a loving hand 
To wrestlers in the troubled sea. 

O teach me, Lord, that I may teach 

The precious things Thou dost impart ; 

And wing my words, that they may reach , 
The hidden depths of many a heart. 

O give Thine own sweet rest to me 

That I may speak with soothing power 

A word in season, as from Thee 
To weary ones in needful hour. 

O fill me with thy fullness, Lord, 

Until my very heart o' erflovv 
In kindling thought and glowing word, 

Thy love to tell, Thy praise to show. 

O use me, Lord, use even me, 

Just as Thou wilt, and when, and where ; 

Until Thy blessed face I see, 

Thy rest, Thy joy, Thy glory share. 

— Frances Ridley Havergal. 

12 



THE WAY W THE W0RLB. 

3p4 AUGH, and the world laughs with you ; 
H'7? Weep and you weep alone ; 
%»* For this brave old earth 

Must borrow its mirth, 
It has troubles enough of its own. 

Sing, and the hills will answer ; 
Sigh, and. 'tis lost on the air ; 

The echoes rebound 

To a joyful sound, 
But shrink from voicing care. 

Rejoice, and men will seek you ; 
Grieve and they will turn and go ; 

They want full measure 

Of all your pleasure, 
But they do not want your woe. 

Be glad, and your friends are many ; 
Be sad, and you will lose them all ; 

There are none to decline 

Your nectared wine, 
But alone you must drink life's gall. 

Feast, and your halls are crowded ; 
Fast, and the world goes by ; 

Succeed and give, 

And it helps you to live, 
But it cannot help you to die. 

There is room in the halls of pleasure 
For a long and a lordly train ; 

But one by one 

We must all file on 
Through the narrow isles of pain. 



-Anox. 



13 



1 



CULTIVATE REFINEMENT. 

O not draw into your shell. So much is to be gain- 
ed by contact with the outside world. The influ- 
ence of the social current has the same effect upon 
human nature as that produced by the constant friction 
of the sea upon the pebbles on the beach. Rough cor- 
ners are polished and sharp angles smoothed down into, 
symmetrical proportions. But it is not enough to be 
simply in the swim. If you wish to be happy, cultivate 
that society which elevates and ennobles. Seek relaxa- 
tion for mind and body among a set of people who hold 
broad views of living-. Narrow-minded men and worn- 
en, and the world is full of them, will only give you 
distorted ideas of life, ideas that will change the sunni- 
est and most healthful disposition into one morose, 
churlish and ill-natured. Be careful then, whom you 
choose for your companions. 

f HERE is no life so humble that if it be true and 
genuinely human and obedient to God, it may not 
hope to shed some of His light. There is no life 
so meager, that the greatest, and wisest of us all can af- 
ford to despise it. We cannot know at what moment 
it may flash forth with the life of God. 

In the voyage of life we should imitate the ancient 
mariners who, without losing sight of the earth, trusted 
to the heavenly signs for their guidance. 

If you would sleep well, take a clear conscience to 
bed with you. 

14 



THE pure in V^mi 

THE pure in heart, the pure in thought,. 
jlwf Shall learn the law the Master taught, 
^p Shall turn from ill and earthly strife, 
And seek the summits high in life. 

The pure in heart, the pure in deed, 
Shall sow each hour some fruitful seed, 
Which falling here and falling there, 
Shall plant for harvest rich and rare. 

The pure in heart, the pure in word, 
Make music, the sweetest ever heard, 
And wake the tones of gracious good, 
The tones of peace and brotherhood ! 

The pure in heart, the pure in prayer, 
Shall feel God's presence everywhere ; 
Shall seek His work on every side, 
And know that life is glorified. 



"FEELING (HURT-'" 

fOME women are always "feeling- hurt" at some- 
thing, — nobody knows what, very likely, or cares, 
after awhile. They make the world miserable, 
and themselves doubly so. They are the torment of 
their families, the terror of their friends, the disgust of 
their employers. 

Now sensitiveness is not a sign of sense. To put it 
on the very lowest ground of selfish policy, the woman 
who "feels hurt" and shows it, makes a ruinous mis- 

15 



"FEELING HURT.)' 

take. People are apt to hate you in proportion as they 
riurt you. Your real lovers are those who feel that 
they have helped or pleased you. If one believes that, 
why not get out of it a little worldly and womanly wis- 
dom ? To go comfortably through this world one needs 
a certain amount of liking and affection — even, I was 
going to say, of admiration. Who likes a friend who 
is always taking offence at something said or unsaid? 
Who can admire long, or love, the one that notes sus- 
piciously your every look and word for signs of neglect 
or waning regard ? Who never gives her own love 
grandly and heartily, but is always scrutinizing what 
she gets in return to see if she hasn 't been cheated in 
the measure? The "most meanest thing a woman can 
■do" (if one may misquote Cable) is to "feel hurt." 

I say a woman, because I think this particularly a 
woman's vice. Some men have it — womanish men. 
For the very reason that our life is a love-life, our mis- 
takes and our sins are the faults of the loving. And 
this is such a very hypocrite of a fault, pretending oft- 
entimes to be dear love itself, that I want you girls to 
begin at once and root it out, declare war against it, 
in the name of all that is blessed and peaceful and love- 
ly and lovable. 

Of course you have outgrown the childish trick of 
"getting mad" — taking offence openly at every word 
that is spoken. Now go a step further and resolve that 
you will not see offence if it is possible to screen your 
<eyes with any mantle of charity. If your best friend 
walks out of church arm in arm with another and newer 
oone, tossing you a careless nod across the aisle, don't 

16 



FEELISG HURT.' 



go home and cry about it. Have you forgotten how 
near-sighted she is? The poor girl never saw you! 
Somebody doesn't answer your letters by return mail; 
forgets to make you a present at Christmas; doesn't 
remember your birthday. The poorest thing you can 
do is to "feel hurt" about it. 

Nine times out of ten, it was unmeant and accidental. 
The one real slight is best avenged by taking not the 
least notice of it. 

The fact is people do not often go out of their way 
to slight and annoy others in every-day intercourse. In 
the main, people are well-intentioned, kindly disposed; 
but people are also busy and careless. Take no heed 
to every word that is spoken. Do not allow yourself 
to set up an inquisition over other people's words and 
actions. Mild doses of common-sense taken daily as a 
tonic will go far to prevent attacks of low-mindedness; 
for slight pin-pricks of neglect and unkindness, the 
faith-cure is sovereign — trust in the real affection of 
friends, whatever their faults of manner. For real in- 
ternal injuries and heart troubles, there is nothing like 
forgiveness and ' 'the poultice of silence." 

Keep a good stock of these simple remedies on hand, 
dear girls. You will have troubles and slights and in- 
justice; it is the common lot. But as you value success 
in life, as you love your friends, as you love yourself 
— don 't feel hurt! You will lose respect; you will even, 
perhaps, lose confidence in yourself, as surely as you 
do. 

How long we live, not years but actions tell. 

17 




HOW to BE HAPPY- 



" vRE you almost disgusted 
Ml w i th l if e, little man ? 
^4^" I will tell you a wonderful trick 
That will bring you contentment, 

If any thing can — 
Do something for somebody, quick ; 
Do something for somebody, quick ! 

Are you awfully tired 

With play, little girl ? 
Weary, discouraged, and sick ? 
T '11 tell you the loveliest 

Game in the world — 
Do something for somebody, quick ; 
Do something for somebody, quick ! 



Though it rains like the rain 

Of the flood, little man, 
And the clouds are forbidding and thick, 
You can make the sun shine 

In your soul, little man — 
Do something for somebody, quick ; 
Do something for somebody, quick ! 



Though the skies are like brass 

Over head, little girl, 
And the walk like a well heated brick 
And are earthly affairs 

In a terrible whirl ! 
Do something for somebody, quick ! 
Do something for somebody, quick ! 



ST^ND FOR THE TRUTH. 

Wa ET me advise you to wear no armor for your backs 
W/f when you have determined to follow the track of 
"^ truth. Receive upon your breast-plate of righteous- 
ness the sword cuts of your adversaries; the stern met- 
al shall turn the edge of your foeman's weapon. Let 
the right be your Lord paramount, and for the rest be 
free and your own masters still. Follow truth for her 
own sake; follow her in evil report; let not many waters 
quench your love to her. Bow to no customs if they 
be evil. Yield to no established rules if they involve a 
lie. Do not evil though good should come of it. 

"Consequences!" This is the devil's argument. 
Leave consequences to God, but do right. If friends 
fail thee, do the right. Be genuine, real, sincere, up- 
right, and godlike. The world's maxim is, trim your 
sails and yield to circumstances. But if you would do 
any good in your generation, you must be made of 
sterner stuff, and help, make your times rather than be 
made by them. 

You must not yield to customs, but, like an anvil, en- 
dure all the blows until the hammers break themselves. 
When misrepresented, use no crooked means to clear 
yourself. Clouds do not last long. If in the course 
of duty you are tried by the distrust of friends, gird up 
your loins and say in your heart, I was not driven to 
virtue by encouragement of friends, nor will I be re- 
pelled from it by their coldness. Finally, be just, and 
fear not; corruption wins not more than honesty; truth 
lives and reigns when falsehood dies and rots. 

— Chas. Spurgeon. 
19 



the B@YS wh@ Will win. 

p^ERE'S to the boys who are always ready 
III To do their best at their play or work ; 
^§(1 Never afraid, as some are of labor — 
Never trying a task to shirk. 

Never saying, "I cannot do it," 

And putting it off "till by-and-by," 
But facing each task with a sturdy courage, 

A willing heart, and brave "I '11 try." 

Such are boys we all depend on, 

Such are the boys who will some day win. 

They shut the doors of their hearts and guard them 
Against vain thoughts that would fain come in. 

Though only the boys, as age is reckoned, 

They are really men at heart, say I, 
And it makes me glad and proud to see them, 

And the world will be proud of them by-and-by. 



ABOUT GOOD MAKERS. 

J|||i||ANY women, particularly the more youthful 
fflli|| ones, commit through carelessness or thought- 
lessness many breaches of good manners which 
need but a reminder to be speedily remedied. To be- 
gin with, the sweet tooth of the average American girl 
tempts her to eat candy in the street and at the theaters, 
though she may be quite aware that to do so is not 

20 



ABOUT GOOD MANNERS. 



good form. The same girl who would scorn to eat pea- 
nuts and condems those delicacies as "vulgar," munch- 
es away on caramels or buttercups in public vehicles, 
public thoroughfares and public places of amusement. 

Many young women, the best hearted in the world, 
will wound their parent's hearts by openly correcting or 
contradicting them, forgetting that their own superior 
knowledge^does not shoiv up to advantage when parad- 
ed at the expense of good manners. This habit on the 
part of the ^younger members of society is one that 
should be nipped in the bud at once. Suppose father 
or mother~do mispronounce a word, make a mis-state- 
ment, or fall into an error of grammar, does it make 
things any better by emphasizing their faults so openly? 
The first law of good manners is consideration and re- 
spect for those older than ourselves, therefore that, 
outside of any other promptings, should restrain the 
flippant correction of parents before strangers at least. 

To discuss your clothes, your servants or your do- 
mestic affairs is to stamp yourself ill-bred. General 
conversation is the only sort tolerated in the best cir- 
cles. Do not talk and laugh at the theater or other 
places of amusement, annoying those about you Avho 
came to enjoy the performance and not your conversa- 
tion. Do not stare at people and then discuss them so 
that there is no possibility of their mistaking the topic 
of your conversation; in fact, let consideration for oth- 
ers be your watchword and refinement your code, and 
your manners will improve steadily under such person- 
al discipline. 



JWB7HER8 £8 SWEETHEARTS. 

HERE is nothing that so pleases the fond mother 
as the gentle ways of a sweetheart in her son. If 
^" he greets her with a smile, throws his arms about 
her and pats her cheek and caresses her in the fond 
ways of an affectionate nature, she may chide him as a 
simple boy and laughingly question the sincerity of his 
demonstrations, but they bring a glow of pleasure to 
her heart that sweeps away the shadows of care and 
makes her the happiest among God's creatures. Sons 
may make friends here and there as they go through life 
as the creatures of destiny, but one who never deserts 
them, never loses faith or abandons hope is the mother 
whose yearning for love he so often repels or neglects. 



GGMWT THY WAY T0 GOD, 

f.OMMIT thy way to God. 
The weight which makes thee faint 
SBp-i Worlds are to Him no load, 

To Him breathe thy complaint. 
He who for winds and clouds 

Maketh a pathway free, 
Through wastes, or hostile crowds, 
Can make a way for thee. 

Hope, thee, though woes be doubled; 
Hope, and be undismayed; 

22 



DOIXG ANOTHER'S DUTY. 

Let not thy heart be troubled, 

Nor let it be afraid. 
This prison where thou art, 

Thy God will break it soon, 
And flood with light thy heart, 

In his own blessed noon 

Up! up! the day is breaking, 

Say to the cares, good night! 
Thy troubles from thee shake, 

Like dreams in day's fresh light. 
Thou wearest not the crown, 

Nor the best course can tell; 
God sitteth on the throne, 

And guideth all things well. 



D01NG ANTHER'S DUTY. 

|HE true lady shows her training in every word and 

|f gesture; but the pretended is too often caught 

^ napping. A little girl, shopping with her mother 

one day, was sitting contentedly on a counter-stool, 

watching the people as they came in and out. 

Presently she saw a lady, elegantly dressed, who 
stopped at their counter, and handed a water-proof and 
umbrella to the young girl in charge. 

"Take care of these things till I call for them," she 
said in an autocratic tone, and sailed away. 

The bright eyes of the child followed her. The little 
face wore a look of distress. 

"Why, mamma," she whispered, "she didn't eVen 
say 'please'." 

23 



\S 



SELF EXAMINATION. 



Sooner than she expected the lady returned. 

"I will take my things," she said. 

There was some delay in finding them. 

"I hope you haven't lost or misplaced them," she 
said to the young girl in a severe tone. 

Neither misfortune had occurred. The articles were 
found, and taking them without a word, the lady walk- 
ed out. This was more than the child could bear. 
Leaning over so that her sweet face came close to that 
of the clerk, she said graciously, ''Thank you!" 



8EL[? EXWP710N. 

M I full of self or full of spirit? Am I living and 
Ml working for Christ or self? Do I preach for rep- 
■f~^ utation, salary, position, or Christ? Am I con- 
strained by the love of Christ? Does my activity spring 
from physical vivacity, nervous force, ambitious ends, 
or is it inspired by supreme love for Christ? Am I 
zealous of my rights, prerogatives, dignities, or am I 
zealous only for Christ and the salvation of souls? Do 
I preach in deadness to self, no thought of reputation, 
only eyeing God's glory and the eternal welfare of men ? 
Do I set God, the judgment, hell and heaven always 
before me? Am I long suffering? Are my sharpest 
rebukes seasoned with tenderness? My most solemn 
warning delivered with tears? Am I humble, self -for- 
getful, prayerful and holy? Do the people grow in 
holiness and divine troops under my ministry? Not 
simply do I get my assessments in full, not so many 

24 



A WORKING MAN'S TRIBUTE TO PAPERS. 

baptized and added to the roll. All these things may 
be done and death prevail. But are people advancing 
in faith, in prayer, in holiness, in love? Is this advance 
evident and marked? Is my ministry fruitful in this re- 
gard? A nearness to God, a fitness for heaven, a grow- 
ing separation for, and antagonism to the world, a free- 
dom from sin, the Spirit abounding, the flesh crucified? 



fl WORKWOMAN'S TRIBUTE TO PAPERS. 

WORKING man in this city who was complaining 
f%l °f hard times recently was asked how he could af- 
ford to take a newspaper. ' 'Well, " said he, ' 'I hope 
I shall never be too poor to take a paper. I thought I 
was too poor for ten years after I was married. My 
wife suggested that I take a paper regularly, and I did 
so, and it was the most economical stroke of my life. 
It kept me at home, afforded me pleasure and instruc- 
tion and was a comfort to the whole family. I had to 
stop the use of tobacco for a whole year once in order 
to pay for the paper, and the result was that I have not 
cared for tobacco since, and in that one item I have 
saved enough to pay for several papers. So long as I 
have money enough to buy bread with I will have mon- 
ey enough to pay for a news-paper. There is no man 
too poor to read a paper. It is the cheapest investment 
he can make, both for himself and his family. It is the 
last expense I will lop off. I will drink my tea and cof- 
fee without sugar before I miss my paper, I can better 
afford to do so," 



25 




WtfWJ BEGfljWE 0|7 A L|E. 

IRST, somebody told it, 
Then the room wouldn't hold it, 
^9^ So the busy tongues rolled it 

Till they got it outside ; 
Then the crowd came across it, 
And never once lost it 
But tossed it and tossed it 
Till it grew long and wide. 



•~-*4v 



; V 



From a very small lie, Sir, 
It grew deep and high, Sir, 
Till it reached to the sky, Sir, 

And frightened the moon ; 
For she hid her sweet face, Sir, 
In a veil of cloud-lace, Sir, 
At the dreadful disgrace, Sir, 

That had happened at noon. 

This lie brought forth others, 
Dark sisters and brothers, 
And fathers and mothers — 

A terrible crew ; 
And while headlong they hurried, 
The people they flurried, 
And troubled and worried, 

As lies always do. 

And so, evil boded, 

This monstrous Lie goaded, 

Till at last it exploded 

In smoke and in shame. 
When from mud and from mire 
The pieces flew higher 
And hit the sad liar, 

And killed his good name ! 

— Mrs. M. A. Kidder. 

26 



If? WE KNEW." 

IF we knew, when walking thoughtless 
In the noisy crowded way, 
That some pearl of wondrous whiteness 
Close beside our path-way lay, 
We would pause where now we hasten, 

We would often look around, 
Lest our careless feet should trample 
Some rare jewel to the ground. 

If we knew what forms were fainting 

For the shade that we should fling; 
If we knew what lips were parching 

For the water we could bring, 
We would haste with eager foot-steps, 

We would work with willing hands, 
Bearing cups of cooling water, 

Planting- rows of shading palms. 

If we knew when friends around us 

Closely pressed to say good-bye, 
Which among the lips that kissed us 

First would 'neath the daisies lie, 
We would clasp our arms around them, 

Looking on them through our tears; 
Tender words of love eternal 

We would whisper in their ears. 

If we knew what lives were darkened 
By some thoughtless word of ours, 

Which had ever lain among them 
Like the frost among the flowers; 

27 



READ. 

Oh, with what sincere repentings, 
With what anguish of regret, 

While our eyes were overflowing, 
We would cry, Forgive! Forget! 

If we knew — Alas! and do we 

Ever care or seek to know 
Whether bitter herbs or roses 

In our neighbors' gardens grow ? 
God forgive us ! Lest hereafter 

Our hearts break to hear Him say, 
"Careless child, I never knew you, 

From my presence flee away." 



||EAD continually, only reserving such time for re- 
U| laxation and the duties of life as your situation may 
require. Don't sit with your hands folded and 
mouth open, doing nothing; these are minutes which 
you are wasting— minutes make hours, hours make days 
and weeks, and all combined are swiftly flying towards 
eternity. Then read! — read everything and anything, 
except low and trashy subjects; there is no branch of 
art or science, or of literature, from which, properly 
tperused, you may not get some valuable information. 

The difference between -the reader and the sluggard, 
who sits in the easy-chair asleep in the evening, is as 
great as the contrast between a fool and a sensible per- 
son; the former goes about the world, sees, hears, thinks 
and digests the results of his observation during his 
travels; he will presently give these reflections to the 

28 



READ. 



world in a new and interesting shape, and thus make 
other readers. But the sluggard is a useless character, 
and not worth the ink to describe him. 

Read an almanac, if you cannot get a paper; and he 
must be poor indeed, as the bard singeth, who cannot 
afford a subscription to some journal in this age of the 
world. At all events, leave no means untried to culti- 
vate and impro\ r e the spare hours which you will have 
during the winter months. If you are waiting some- 
where on business, take out your paper and peruse its 
columns; you will soon find the advantage of the prac- 
tice. 

Time shall overwhelm all things, and render mines 
useless, gems of no value. The thief may in an hour 
destroy the labor of a lifetime in accumulating a fortune, 
but no power, short of a Divine one, can wrest the rich- 
es of a well stored mind from its possessor. Again we 
say — read ! 



7j^ ; ONSIDER your blessings more than your troub- 
les; look on the bright side of life rather than on 
- the dark side; see your neighbor's virtues rather 
than his failings; speak cheerfully, not despondingly; 
give thanks instead of grumbling. 



Truth is the property of God; the pursuit is what be- 
longs to man. 

Divine love is a sacred flower which in its earthly bud 
is happiness, and in its full bloom is heaven. 

29 



THE UNSOWN SEED. 






SAW a garden, in springtime, 
1 1 Prepared with the greatest care, 
^ And I thought when comes the summer, 
Rare flowers will be blooming there. 
But summer found in the garden 

Full many a noxious weed, 
With never a flower among them, 
For none had sown the seed. 



I saw a life that gave promise 

Of a harvest rich and rare, 
Had the fertile soil been tended, 

And the seed been planted there. 
Neglected and unplanted — 

O'ergrown with sin's foul weeds — 
O, the flowers we might gather 

Did we only sow the seed ! 

Had we sown the seeds of virtue, 

Of holy love and truth, 
Of charity and kindness, 

In the springtime of our j 7 outh ; 
In the autumn we'd have gathered 

A harvest rich and rare — 
A harvest of fragrant flowers 

Been blooming for us there. 



30 



VACATION SONG. 

We 'd have never causae to murmur 

At the hardness of our lot ; 
Our lives full of contentment — 

In palace or in cot. 
Did we improve the golden springtime, 

Root out each noxious weed — 
What a bountiful harvest waits us, 

Did we only sow the seed ! 



VflG#fl0M SONG. 

tHAVE closed my books and hidden my slate, 
And thrown my satchel across the gate, 
^ My school is out for a season of rest, 

And now for the schoolroom I love the best ! 

My schoolroom lies on the meadow wide, 
Where under the clover the sunbeams hide ; 
Where the long vines cling to the mossy bars, 
And the daisies twinkle like fallen stars ; 

Where clusters of butter cups gild the scene, 
Like showers of gold-dust thrown over the greei^ 
And the wind's flying footsteps are traced, as they pass, 
By the dance of the sorrel and the dip of the grass. 

My lessons are written in clouds and trees, 
And no one whispers,. except the breeze, 
Who sometimes blows from a secret place, 
A stray, sweet blossom against my face. 

My school bell rings in the rippling stream 
Which hides itself, like a school-boy's dream, 
Under a shadow and out of sight, 
But laughing still for its own delight. 

3i 



WHAT'S DONE FOR GOD CAN NEVER DIE. 

My schoolmates there are the birds and bees, 
And the saucy squirrel, less wise than these, 
For he only learns in all the weeks, 
How many chestnuts will fill his cheeks. 

My teacher is patient, and never yet 
A lesson of hers did once forget ; 
For wonderful love do her lips impart, 
And all her lessons are learned by heart. 

O come ! O come ! or we shall be late, 
And autumn will fasten the golden gate. 
Of all the schoolrooms, in east or west, 
The school of nature I love the best. 



WHAT'S BC^E 

FOR GOD CAN NEVER DIE. 

P^O, ye who spend your strength for naught, 
And loathe what you've so dearly bought, 
Toilers of earth and time and sense 

Oh, what shall be your recompense 

Of all that's done beneath the sky ? 

But this is immortality. 

What's done for earth, fails by and by, 

What's done for God, can never die. 

Ho, ye who join the eager strife, 
For gold, or fame, or pride of life, 
Who pamper lusts of flesh or eye, 
And for the world, with worldlings vie, 
Death will undo your toil so vain 
And leave you no abiding gain, 
What's done for time, ends by and by, 
What's done for God, can never die. 

32 



SWEET WORDS. 

Mountains may crumble back to dust, 
Scepters and crown deceive our trust 
And fail, desire may perish — lust ; 
By moth, or rust, or thief, or fire, 
Our treasures fail, our hope expire ; 
What's done for sense, fails by and by, 
What's done for God, can never die. 

Then do for God what-e'er you can, 
O mortal, and immortal man ; 
A wasted life ah me to grieve, 
Eternity cannot retrieve. 
A fruitful life for man and God 
Eternity will well reward. 
Probation ceases by and by, 
What's done for God can never die. 



SWEET WORDS. 

I JY dearest of Mothers. " I heard the words repeat- 
||fifflf ed in soft tones by my next door neighbor at an 
island farm-house where we were sojourning. 
"My dearest of mothers." My friend was a widow, 
and her son, an affectionate talented fellow, was engin- 
eering in Idaho. In one of his late letters he had said 
at the close, "and now, my dearest of mothers, good- 
bye." Did he guess, I wonder, how the little petting 
phrase would please the heart that loved him so? Did 
he think she would say it over softly to herself as she 
sat alone in her room? 

The home days were over. The babies with their 
sweet ways, their joy-giving and their trouble-making, 

33 



SWEET WORDS. 



had grown to noisy boys, then to self-asserting men; 
they were out in the world making their way; brains 
busy, thoughts absorbed, hearts full; yet here was one 
who remembered the mother, still in middle life, loving 
and needing love the same as when her boys were her 
very own in the very dear child's home. He wrote her 
long letters, describing his adventurous, changeable 
life; the strange companions by whom he was sur- 
rounded; the wondrous scenery of the wild western 
world. It was all intensely enjoyed; but better than 
all were the loving phrases that showed the son's af- 
fectionate heart. I wonder if the boys know how dear 
they are to their mothers, and how little attentions, 
little gifts, tender words, flying visits, cheer and warm 
the hearts that have born the test of years and sorrow. 
Life is a little chilly to mothers whose homes are 
things of the past. Even if they remain in the home, 
the rooms seem very bare and silent after the children 
are gone. It is as if summer had flown, with its nest 
and bird-songs, and autum winds are blowing. Then 
the love of the sons and daughters is like the sunshine 
or warm fires to the heart that sadly miss them. Let 
us hope there are many sons who write, "My dearest 
of Mothers. 



fifcFTEN the most useful Christians are those who 
i^j) serve their Master in little things: he never despis- 
es the day of small things, or else he would not 

hide his oaks in tiny acorns, or the wealth of a wheat 

field in bags of little seeds. 

34 



HE 6H@SE THIS p^TH FOR THEE. 

|P>E chose this path for thee, 

No feeble chance, nor hard relentless fate ; 

But love, His love, hath placed thy footsteps here. 
He knew the way was rough and desolate: 

Knew how thy heart would often sink with fear, 
Yet tenderly He whispered, "Child, I see 
This path is best for thee." 

He chose this path for thee, 
Though well He knew sharp thorns would pierce thy feet. 

Knew how the bramble would obstruct thy way, 
Knew all the hidden dangers thou would'st meet, 

Knew how thy faith would falter day by day; 
And still the whisper echoed, "Yes I see 
This path is best for thee." 

He chose this path for thee; 
And well He knew that thou must tread alone 

Its gloomy vales, and ford each flowing stream; 
Knew how thy bleeding heart would sobbing moan, 

"Dear Lord, to wake and find it all a dream!" 
Love scanned it all, yet still could say, "I see 
This path is best for thee." 

He chose this path for thee; 
E'en while He knew the fearful midnight gloom 

Thy timid, shrinking soul must travel through: 
How towering rocks would oft before thee loom 

And phantoms grim would meet thy frightened view;. 
Still comes the whisper, "My beloved, I see 
This path is best for thee." 

35 



WAIT. 



He chose this path for thee. 
What need'st thou more? This sweeter truth to know, 

That all along these strange, bewildered ways, 
O'er rocky steeps where dark rivers flow, 

His loving arm will bear thee "all the day." 
A few steps more, and thou thyself shalt see 
This path is best for thee. 



wait. 

il'F not even one little step is plain to us, "ye nexte 
|], thynge" is to wait. Sometimes that is God's will for 
^ us. At least, it is never His will that we shall take 
a step into the darkness. He never hurries us. We 
had better always wait than rush on when we are not 
quite sure of the way. Often in our impatience we do 
rush things, which after a little while were not God's 
"nexte thynge" for us at all. That was Peter's mis- 
take when he cut off a man's ear in the garden, and it 
led to sore trouble and humiliation a little later. There 
are many quick, impulsive people who are continually 
doing "next things" wrong, and who find their next 
thing trying, to undo the last. We must always wait 
for God, and never take a step which He has not made 
light for us. 

— J. R. Miller. 



The only way to abolish poverty is to dig yourself, 
or get some one to dig for you whose work is worth 
more than his wages. 

36 



I 9- 



z^- 



LOOK HIGHER UP. 




g street. 



I ought 



I doubt if this is 



S this the door?" I asked my- 
self, hunting up an address in a 
"* bewildering 
to know it." 

"No," I said, 
the door." 

I chanced though to look higher 
up, and there was the name I sought 
after, a name honored, beloved, 
valued. Looking lower, I failed 
to notice that help. I saw it now, 
standing out in clear, distinct let- 
ters. 

A simple incident, but it set me busily to thinking. 
There are many of us trying some door of blessing. 
Bewildered, we look and may be disappointed. We 
are in sorrow. It may be the disappointment of afflic- 
tion, of sickness, of business losses. We look along 
the range of human resources and human helps, ever 
seeking some door of peace. Look higher up. Look 
unto the name of Him called "Wonderful." Measur- 
less are His resources, giving a personal presence to 
support us, an individual reconciliation to our losses, 
strength now. Look unto Jesus! 

We are perplexed about duty. But it may not be 

37 



LOOK HIGHER UP. 



the thing that perplexes so much as the way; not the 
end, but our course to do it. We want wisdom. We 
need advice. We seek it at human lips; we err if we 
stop there. Look higher up! Look unto the name of 
Him called "Counselor." Ask the Savior. Look un- 
to Jesus! 

We are tempted. We are weak before the hour of 
decision and helpless after it. We cry, "No man car- 
eth for my soul." Self then shall be the friend show- 
ing sympathy, self the friend that promises the strength 
of its co-operation. "Is not this the door?" some one 
asks. "That door is a snare," we say. No; victory 
has another portal. Look up higher! Look unto Him 
called the "Mighty God." He is able to save from sin 
and save unto holiness. Look higher up, unto Jesus! 

When the end comes, when our feet may falter in 
death; when our sight may be dim, how precious the 
name of the Unchangeable. One, the same yesterday, 
to-day, and forever, his glorious name shining out in 
letters of fire! In the hour of dying may we look on 
high, and looking we shall see, as we pass into the Fa- 
ther's house, no more to go out forever. 



ifHE chief beauty in every mother's face, lies in its 
W expression which mirrors the sincerity, the gen- 
^ tleness, the intelligence within. "Her face, 
says Lovett, "was the benediction of the world, com- 
ing from her true and tender soul." That beauty 
every woman can gain by a pure and loving life. 

38 



PR LQVE'8 SAKE. 

OMETIMES I am tempted to murmur 
That life is flitting away, 
With only a round of trifles 
Filling each busy day; 
Dusting nooks and corners, 

Making the house look fair, 
And patiently taking on me 
The burden of woman's care. 

Comforting childish sorrows, 

And charming the childish heart 
With the simple song and story 

Told with a mother's art; 
Setting the dear home-table, 

And clearing the meal away, 
And going on little errands 

In the twilight of the day. 

One day is just like another! 

Sewing and piecing well 
Little jackets and trousers 

So neatly that none can tell 
Where the seams and joinings — 

Ah! — the seamy side of life 
Is kept out of sight by the magic 

Of many a mother and wife. 

And oft when I'm ready to murmur 

That life is flitting away, 
With the selfsame round of duties 

Filling each busy day, 

39 



FOR LOVE'S SAKE. 

It comes to my spirit sweetly, 

With the grace of a thought divine: 
"You are living, toiling for love's sake, 
And loving should ne'er repine. 

"You are guiding the little footsteps 

In the way they ought to walk; 
You are dropping a word for Jesus 

In the midst of your household talk; 
Living your life for love's sake 

Till the homely cares grow sweet, 
And sacred the self-denial 

That is laid at the Master's feet." 



\TL who overlooks a small occasion will have lost his 
eyesight when a great one comes. Never wait for 
a chance to do good, never seek for some great 
thing, but improve each small opportunity as it comes 
to you, and some day you will be surprised to find that 
the truly great occasion of your life would have been 
overlooked had you not been keeping track of the small 
things. 



At thirty we are all trying to cut our names in big 
letters upon the walls of this tenement life; twenty 
years later we have carved it, or shut up our jacknife. 

— O. W. Holmes. 



There is nothing more difficult than to make a friend 
of a foe; nothing more easy than to make a foe of a 
friend. 

40 



ONLY THE PRESENT. 

|j|EFORE me in billowy mist, 
1® Floats visions of greatness and fame ; 
%^ Deeds of chivalry, kindness, and love, 

That ,one day shall make me a name. 

I see great acts of charity 

That some day I shall perform, 

The orphans I'll cheer, the widows relieve,. 

And hearts I shall gladden and warm. 



I see myself petted, and loved, 
Respected and courted by all, 
Because I reached out to the needy 
And heeded humanity's call. 
Of course it was only my duty, 
But that doesn't alter the case, 
That people will flatter and smile, 
And speak words of praise to my face. 

I smile as I look at the phantom, 

For self is exalted you know ; 

In the future these deeds I shall do, 

No time for them now, Oh no ! 

I have work for myself to do, 

I have cares of my own just now, 

But by and by when riches shall come, 

Then all the world before me shall bow. 

For I'll bind the hearts that are broken,. 
I'll lift up the helpless and weak, 

41 



ONLY THE PRESENT. 

Encourage the weary and feeble 
And no reward will I seek. 
I will smile on those who look sad, 
I will speak in tones low and sweet, 
Yes, all this in the future I'll do 
When all around me is complete. 

But higher and thicker the mist arose 

Till all was darkness and gloom ; 

Then all at once the light streamed in 

And a being I knew not whom, 

Came gliding forward and gently said : 

" My child, why dream of future years, 

Unless thou dost the present improve 

It will bring thee nothing but sorrow and tears." 

" Boast not thyself of the future, 
We need thy work just now, to-day, 
Look forth on the fields already white, 
Then up and be doing ! Do not delay ! 
If in other days thy work had been needed, 
In other days thy life had been given. 
This is the time for thee to labor 
For Him whose side for thee was riven." 

The vision fled, and I awoke 

To find, alas, it was terribly true 

That I was idling my life away 

When all around was so much to do. 

With a prayer to Heaven for pardon 

O'er the wasted days long and pleasant 

I'll arise and work, redeeming the time, 

For,"we've only the present ! Only the present ! 



42 



:NCE there was a king who employed his people to 
weave for him, The silk and paterns were all 
given by the king. He told them when difficulty 
arose they should send for him, and never fear troub- 
ling him. 

Among the men and women busy at looms was a 
little child whom the king did not think too young to 
work. Often alone at her work cheerfully and patient- 
ly she labored. One day, when the men and women 
were distressed at the sight of their failures, the silks 
were tangled and the weaving unlike the patern, they 
gathered around the child and said: "Tell us how it is 
that you are so happy in your work. We are always 
in difficulties." 

"Then why do you not send to the king?" said the 
little weaver; "He told us that we might do so." 

"So we do, night and morning." 

"Ah," said the child. "But I send directly when I 
find I have a tangle." 

So let us all take our wants and troubles to the Lord 
in prayer. He invites us to do so, and promises to 
help us. 



To be able to converse well is a valuable gift. Of 
one so gifted Joanna Baillie says: 

"He is so full of pleasant anecdote, 
So rich, so gay, so poignant in his wit, 
Time vanishes before him as he speaks." 

43 



WHY 80JAE B8N7 W0RK- 

BECAUSE they can't have their own way in every- 
Pj thing. 

Because they don't receive abundant applause of 
men for each effort put forth. 

Because some one has misjudged them or perhaps 
unintentionally slighted them. 

Because they have not their eyes open to the good 
they might do if they tried. 

Because they are chronic invalids and live in doubt- 
ing castles, and all their time is occupied complaining 
about themselves and fighting against their doubts. 

Because they are not set on fire by the elements of 
divine love, as God intended, and are in some degree 
in a cold and back-slidden state. 

Because the viper of indifference has got hold of 
them as they have been warming by the world's fire, 
and swollen them up with pride of heart. 



N0 H©NEST LHB0R 8K0ULB BR^G 8|H/WE. 

flONSCIENTIOUS effort raises the most humble 
I labor to the highest plane. The shirk is out of 
^ r place in any sphere, and no matter whether his 
work is what the world styles humble or genteel, it is 
belittled by his indolence and want of attention. But 
the individual who makes each effort a complete one, 

44 



NO HONEST LABOR SHOULD BRING SHAME. 

who looks after the minutest detail with the same fideli- 
ty that a matter of the utmost importance would com- 
mand, renders the most commonplace duty respectable 
and worthy. 

A certain merchant who had commenced life in 
humble circumstances, and, by labor and honesty, had 
achieved a striking success, was disputing with a fellow- 
tradesman. 

1 'You used to drive a deliverv wagfon for my father, 
and do the sweeping and chores about his store," said 
the other tauntingly. 

"I did," was the reply; "and more than that, I did 
it well." 

Xo honest labor should bring shame to the person 
who engages in it, save to him who seeks to shirk the 
responsibilities of his calling. Work that is well done 
always commands respect, and proves that the work- 
man is a person of character. 

The man who sees only the dollar and cents at the 
end of his labor is the one who usually leaves his work 
crude and unfinished. 

The pecuniary reward of toil is a great and desirable 
incentive to industrv, but there is something- in addi- 
tion to this to be desired. 

"To be a successful speaker or writer, " says a 
famous thinker, "a man must be of intense spirit, and 
must put part of himself into his discourse." 

The same is also true of workmen in any other sphere 
of activity. To be a successful carpenter, blacksmith, 
teacher, or professional man, one must put his individ- 
uality into his work. He must regard each detail as 

45 



BE CONTENT. 



important, and must labor with the thought before him 
that a well-completed task is of itself part of the reward 
he shall receive for his labor. The success of the in- 
dividual who works in this spirit, no matter what may 
be his duties, is assured from the beginning. 



BE mUJK^J, 

E content with such things as ye have. Some peo- 
ple have better things, others have worse. You, 
perhaps, can not have the better, and you have no 
desire for the worse; then be content with what you 
have. You may have had better things in the past, 
you may have worse things in the future. Be thankful 
for the present and be content. If your lot is a hard 
one you may improve it, but not by murmuring, fret- 
ting or repining. Just here to-day learn the lesson of 
contentment and wait on God for brighter days, for 
richer fruits, for purer joys. 

No blessing comes to the murmuring, complaining, 
discontented heart. When once this evil demon of dis- 
content has entered into the soul nothing is right. 
Even the "angel's food" was not good enough for the 
murmuring Israelites, and "the corn of heaven" could 
not satisfy those whose souls were filled with the dis- 
content of earth. But when once the heart has found 
its rest in God, and all its murmurings are hushed in 
sweet submission to His will, there is peace in believ- 
ing, joy in the Holy Cihost, and a hallowed confi- 
dence in the kind providence of Him who hath done all 
things well. 

46 



GQURA6E. 

HE world is bright to all who dare ; 
I - The world is sweet to all who do ; 
^J There comes an answer to the prayer 
Of all who to themselves are true. 

The hill that in the distance glooms, 
On near approach, to smile is found ; 

Its verdure and its sweet perfumes 
Are balm to every bleeding wound. 

The mine is barred to indolence, 
The dewy pearl hides in the sea, 

The "golden fleece" is found far hence, 
"Beyond the Alps lies Italy." 

No good e 'er comes to idle dreams ; 

To wish is but to wish in vain ; 
The polished shaft of marble gleams 

Not for the stranger unto pain. 

All things of honest worth are brought 
By toil and patience, faith and love ; 

Each step in life's great ladder wrought 
By which the soul may mount above. 

Oh, could I speak one word of cheer 
To those who languish in the strife ! 

Oh, could I wipe away the tear 

And let them see their crown of life ! 

Press on with courage true and bold ; 

Press on with pulses beating high ; 
The morning breaks her bars of gold ! 

The sun in splendor mounts the sky ! 

47 



REAL pRIENDS, 



HE best thing that can happen to a nervous girl 
is to be liked." Leave out the "nervous girl" 
and substitute "anyone," and the aphorism will 
hold good. Real friends are the choicest of possess- 
ions, not only for the superficial pleasures they confer, 
but because of the reflex influence which true affection 
exerts on its object as on its giver. Scores of self-de- 
nying, charitable acts owe their origin to this source. 
A friend who has confidence in your ability inspires you 
to your best endeavors. The admiration of a friend in- 
creases the self-respect and hence attractiveness of the 
plainest person. Cordial friendship awakens friendship 
in return and brightens the darkest periods of life. It 
is an easy thing to give friendship, and the poorest and 
the humblest has it in his power to bestow this happi- 
ness, which is more lasting in its effects and more help- 
ful than any other gift. Count over your list of friends 
and determine to increase it. 



« RECEIPT [FOR HWMES8. 

tT is simple: When you rise in the morning, form a 
resolution to make the day a happy one to a fellow- 
r creature. It is easily done. A left off garment to 
the man who needs.it; a kind word to the sorrowful; an 
encouraging expression to the striving — trifles in them- 



NEVER TOO OLD TO LEARN. 



selves light as air — will do it at least for the twenty-four 
hours. And if you are young depend upon it, it will 
tell when you are old; and if you are old rest assured it 
will send you gently and happily down the stream of 
time to eternity. Look at the result. You send one 
person, only one, happily through the day; and it is 
three hundred and sixty-five during the year; and sup- 
pose you live forty years only after you commence this 
course, you have made fourteen thousand and six hun- 
dred human beings happy, at all events for a time. 
Now worthy reader is it not simple, and is it not worth 
accomplishing? 



IR Henry Spellman neglected the sciences in his 

youth, but commenced the study of them when he 

was about fifty and sixty years of age. After this 

time he became a most learned antiquary and lawyer. 

Dr. Johnson applied himself to the Dutch language 

but a few days before he died. 

Franklin did not commence his philosophical re- 
searches till he reached his fiftieth year. 

Socrates, at an extreme old age, learned to play on 
musical instruments. 

Cato, at eighty years of age, began to study the 
Greek language. 

Constant occupation prevents temptation. 
Conscience is never dilatory in her warnings. 
Confine your tongue lest it confine you. 

49 



THE 8GULPPR B@Y. 

HISEL in hand stood a sculptor boy, 
35 With his marble block before him, 
And his face lit up with a smile of joy 
As an angel dream passed o'er him. 
He carved that dream on the yielding stone 

With many a sharp incision ; 
In Heaven's own light the sculptor shone — 
He had caught that angel vision. 

Sculptors of life are we as we stand 

With our lives uncarved before us, 
Waiting the hour, when, at God's command, 

Our life-dream passes o'er us. 
Let us carve it, then, on the yielding stone 

With many a sharp incision ; 
Its heavenly beauty shall be our own — 

Our lives that angel vision. 

W. C. DOANE. 



L0^6 MPE. 

!j^OUNT not thy life by calendars ; for 

Years shall pass thee by unheeded, whilst an hour- 
Some litttle fleeting hour, too quickly past — 

May stamp itself so deeply on thy brain, 

Thy latest years shall live upon its joy. 

His life is longest, not whose boneless gums, 

Sunk eyes, wan cheeks, and snow-white hairs bespeak 

Life's limits ; no ! but he whose memory 

Is thickest set with those delicious scenes 

'Tis sweet to ponder o'er when even falls. 



Wa 



50 



Ill 



THE ppp>!ES7 BOY. 

HO is the 



||HO is the happiest boy you know? Who has 
the best time ? Is it the one who last winter had 
the biggest toboggan, or who now has the most 
marbles, or wears the best clothes? Let's see. 

Once there was a king who had a little boy whom he 
loved. He gave him beautiful rooms to live in, and 
pictures and toys and books. He gave him a pony to 
ride, and a row boat on a lake, and servants. He pro- 
vided teachers who were to give him knowledge that 
would make him good and great. 

But for all this the young prince was not happy. 
He wore a frown wherever he went, and was always 
wishing for something he did not have. 

At length, one day a magician came to court. He 
saw the boy, and said to the king: "I can make your 
son happy, but you must pay me my own price for tell- 
ing the secret." 

"Well," said the king, "what you ask I will give." 

So the magician took the boy into a private room. 
He wrote something with a white substance on a piece 
of paper. Next he gave the boy a candle, and told 
him to light it and hold it under the paper, and then 
see what he could read. Then he went away and ask- 
ed no price at all. The boy did as he had been told, 
and the white letters turned into a beautiful blue. 
They formed these words: 

"Do a kindness to some one every day!" 

The prince made use of the secret, and became the 
happiest boy in the kingdom. 



5i 



0QWG HIS WILL. 

MF the voice of the Master bid me, 

M "Go, buckle the armor on, 

^ Go, stand where the fight is the thickest, 

And strike till the victory's won," — 
I count that the joy of serving 

Will prompt me to go unswerving. 

Yet, when the din and clamor 

I can hear, yet comes no call, 
And I fold my hands while the valiant 

Smite their foes, till they shrink and fall, 
I fret that such fate should bind me, 

And the Master in idleness find me. 

But the voice that nerved for the battle 

I hear as the din grows still, 
And it whispers me this sweet plaudit, 

"Fret not, you too, did my will." 
Sweet message, my soul elating, 

"You served me by only waiting." 



JlOMMON politeness is very simple, very easy, 
very cheap. It costs nothing in effort; it is no 
^ tax on either the physical or mental powers; it is 
always gratefully received by polite people, and it grat- 
ifies giver as well as receiver. It makes all within the 
range of its influence happier and better, and it 
smooths many of the rough paths of life. 

52 




PST1EN6E. 

HEN we look back at close of day, 
Whether it close in sun or rain, 
P^J We yet can say, "It is a way 

We shall not have to walk again." 

For should we live a hundred years — 
A life of praise, a life of blame, 

A life of joy , a life of tears — 

We would not see two days the same. 

Out of the vast, eternal store 
New duties and new joys arise ; 

Strange clouds of grief shall gloom us o'er, 
Fresh bursts of hope shall clear the skies. 

Each day a gift ! And life is made 
Only of days, with gifts between. 

To-day a burden ? Quick 'tis weighed, 
And you shall have a day unseen. 

Sweet Patience ! Other angel bands 
On urgent errands sweep the skies, 

To-day but let me hold thy hands, 
And gaze into thy steadfast eyes ! 



The Lord Jesus is a stone of stumbling to every self- 
righteous sinner; but to the believer he is the Stone of 
help. 

53 



PSTIENGE WITH THE LIVING. 

^Ijll WEET friend, when thou and I are gone 
tl®J Beyond earth's weary labor, 
^P When small shall be our need of grace 
From comrade or from neighbor ; 
Passed all the strife, the toil, the care, 

And done with all the sighing, 
What tender truth shall we have gained,. 
Alas ! by simply dying ? 

Then lips too chary of their praise 

Will tell our merits over, 
And eyes too swift our faults to see 

Shall no defects discover. 
Then hands that would not lift a stone 

Where stones were thick to cumber 
Our steep hill-path, will scatter flowers 

Above our pillowed slumber. 

Sweet friend, perchance both thou and I,. 

Ere love is past forgiving, 
Should take the earnest lesson home — 

Be patient with the living. 
To-day's repressed rebuke may save 

Our blinding tears to-morrow; 
Then patience — e'en when keenest edge 

May whet a nameless sorrow. 

'Tis easy to be gentle when 

Death's silence shames our clamor, 
And easy to discern the best 

Through memory's mystic glamour ; 
But wise it were for thee and me, 

Ere love is past forgiving, 
To take the tender lesson home — 

Be patiei.t with the living. 

54 



R LOVING (HE^RT- 

J HE woman with a loving heart is sure to look up- 
on the bright side of life, and by her example in- 
duce others to do so. She sees a good reason 
for all the unwelcome events which others call bad luck. 
She believes in silver linings, and likes to point them 
out to others. A week of rain or fog, an avalanche 
of unexpected guests, a dishonest servant, an unbecom- 
ing bonnet, or any other of the thousand minor inflec- 
tions of everyday life, have no power to disturb the 
deep calm of her soul. The love light is still in her 
eyes, whether the days be dark or bright. It is she 
who conquers the grim old uncle and the dyspeptic 
aunt. The crossest baby reaches out its arms to her, 
and is comforted; old people and strangers always ask 
the way of her in the crowded street. She has a good 
word to say for the man or woman who is under the 
world's ban of reproach. Gossip pains her, and she 
never voluntarily listens to it. Her gentle heart helps 
her to see the reason for every poor sinner's mis-step, 
and condones every fault. She might not serve with 
acceptance on the judge's bench, but she is a very 
agreeable person to know. If you seek to find the 
happy and fortunate woman in your circle, they will 
generally be those who were born with loving hearts, 
or, if not so endowed by nature, they have cultivated, 
by help of grace, this choice possession, and so have a 
double claim to its rewards. 



55 



FAM1MFR1T1ES Of? YOUNG GIRLS. 

JrfHERE is very little left to call the people you love 
mW if you lavish words of affection on every stranger 
^ whom you meet. If you call a young- woman whom, 
you have known just half an hour "Dear," and one 
whom you have known three days "Darling," there will 
be no tender endearing term for you to address to those 
who have your whole heart. Girls who are not of ne- 
cessity gushing are often apt to speak in the most fa- 
miliar manner. Good speech is certainly pure silver, 
but there are so many times when silence would out- 
weigh it and be perfect gold. To tell of one's family 
affairs, to tell of one's joys and worries to some one 
who has a sympathetic manner and seems to invite it, 
is at once a weakness and a misfortune. To write a 
letter in w T hich you use endearing terms, in which you 
discuss personal matters, is more than merely indis- 
creet — it is dangerous. Don't you think if you are a 
bit familiar in speech or with a pen to a man that he is 
going to meet this more than half way? Don't you 
think if you call him by his first name he is very apt to 
call you by yours, and perhaps before people whom 
you do not care to have think lightly of you? If you 
permit him to speak of things not usually discussed, do 
not imagine for one moment he is going to regard the 
conversation as confidential. He will always tell it to 
somebody and then you can imagine how much further 
down in the esteem of two people you have gone. 

56 



WHAT TO TEACH THE BOYS. 



Don't permit any man to be familiar with you to the 
extent of calling you "Old Girl," or citing you as "One 
of the boys." You don't belong among the boys, and 
you shouldn't be counted there. Don't let any man, 
unless you are betrothed to him, kiss you. Lips are of 
little worth to John which have been pressed by Tom, 
Dick and Harry. 



W|HAT TO TEA6H THE B0YS. 

WO be obedient. 
^m- To have patience. 
^ To read books worth reading. 

To be temperate in all things. 

To keep themselves neat and clean. 

To shun evil company and rough ways. 

To take off their hats when they enter the house. 

To get their lessons and obey the rules of the 
school. 

Always to be employed in some useful occupation. 

Never to chew, smoke, drink or use profane lan- 
guage. 

To keep early hours and always be punctual and in- 
dustrious. 

To be polite at all times and always have a kind 
word for everybody. 

To avoid contracting loose habits and to strive- to be 
manly always. 

To be kind and courteous to each other in the 
school-room and on the street. 



57 



M1N0! 

|IND your tongue! Don't let it speak hasty, 
J! cruel, unkind, or wicked words. 

Mind your eyes! Don't permit them to look 
on wicked books, pictures or objects! 

Mind your ears! Don't suffer them to listen to 
wicked speeches, songs or words. 

Mind your lips! Don't let tobacco foul them. 
Don't let strong drink pass them. Don't let the food 
of the glutton enter between them. 

Mind your hands! Don't let them steal or fight, or 
write any evil words. 

Mind your feet! Don't let them walk in the steps 
of the wicked. 

Mind your heart! Don't let the love of sin dwell 
in it. Don't give it to Satan, but ask Jesus to make it 
his throne. 



BE 80JftE7W'tf8 [^RST-WE, 

MODERN philosopher has been saying that 
fffil every man who can be a first-rate something — as 

every man can be who is a man at all — has no 
right to be a first-rate something, for a first-rate some- 
thing, is no better than a first-rate nothing. A young 
man who wants to do any thing can soon find out what 
he can do best. It does not matter much what he does, 

58 



BE SOMETHING FIRST-RATE. 



so long as he can do it a little better than any one else. 
It is in business or occupation as it is in pastimes or 
amusement. The champion is at the head of his class. 
John L. Sullivan is not a charming all-around man; but 
as he can beat any one else in prize fighting, he is a 
hero. He may be brutal and beastly; but fair worship- 
ers of heroes have sought to know him. 

It is the same with the leaders of armies. The 
object of war is to kill the enemy. The most success- 
ful warrior is the one who kills most, or gets credit for 
it, as a matter of course. Private soldiers do the kill- 
ing; but the generals get the promotion and thanks of 
their government. Eminence in any profession must 
be won by honest endeavor and earnest and patient ap- 
plication. Money can not make a great man of a little 
one. Money may put a little man in a big place; but 
that only makes him look smaller. The pity of it all is 
that so many men are content to be nothing when they 
might be something. 

It makes no difference if a man only blacks boots for 
a living. Let him do his work always a little better 
than any one else and he will have the call. Very 
many men do not do the best they can under all circum- 
stances. They have too little ambition to do so for 
themselves, and too little interest in anything else to 
make a success in life. 



One of the most effectual ways of pleasing and of 
making one's self loved is to be cheerful. Joy softens 
more hearts than tears. 



59 



T|HE GtflLB'8 PRAYER. 

|f r NTO her chamber went 

f A little girl one day, 

^ And by her chair she knelt, 
And thus began to pray: — 

"Jesus, my eyes I close, 

Thy form I cannot see ; 

If thou art near me, Lord, 
I pray thee speak to me. " 
A still small voice she heard within her soul — 
" What is it child ? I hear thee ; tell the whole. " 

"I pray thee, Lord," she said, 

" That Thou wilt condescend 
To tarry in my heart, 

And ever be my friend. 
The path of life is dark, 

I would not go astray ; 
Oh ! let me have Thy hand 

To lead me in the way. " 
" Fear not ; I will not leave thee, child, alone. " 
She thought she heard a soft hand press her own. 

'"They tell me, Lord, that all 

The living pass away, 
And even children may. 

Oh ! let my parents live 
Till I a woman grow ; 

For if they die what can 
A little orphan do ? " 
" Fear not, my child : whatever ill may come 
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home. " 

60 



ALL REQUIRED. 

Her little prayer was said 
And from her chamber now 

She passed forth with the light 
Of heaven upon her brow. 

" Mother, I've seen the Lord, 

His hand in mine I felt, 

And oh ! I heard Him say, 
As by my chair I knelt : — 
" Fear not, my child ; whatever ill may come 
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home." 



ALL REgUIRED. 

MF your station is an humble one, fill it to the best of 
|j your ability, and that is all that will be required of 
you. God only wants now and then a Paul, a Luth- 
er, a Calvin, or a Moody; but he always wants, and 
the world always wants, a multitude of men and women 
ready to bury their lives in the tunnels and mines of 
society, away from the gaze of those who seek a less 
noble and a less enduring work. To a vast number of 
such self-denying, humble workers, like those "of 
whom the world was not worthy," the state, the church 
and society are most deeply indebted to-day; and 
though their names are unknown and their deeds are 
unsung, yet in the world to come they may have a full- 
er joy and a more blessed inheritance than many who 
are occupying a more conspicuous place, and seem to 
be doing a larger work in the world. 

The more communion we enjoy with God, the more 
we reverence His majesty and adore His perfections. 

61 



PARTING. 



||S years slip by, more thoughtful do we grow 
»^¥ When unto those we love farewell is said : 

^4^ To youth Time moves with steps of lagging tread, 

And hence they deem to all his flight is slow. 

But when maturer, higher growth we know, 
And light on our imperfect sight is shed, 
We came to feel a month, a year, swift fled, 

May mean a weight of overwhelming woe. 

With clasp of hand or loving kiss we part, 
And words of fondness, linking heart to heart ; 

Speaking of what shall be when we again 
Answer with smiles the look of trustful eyes ; 
But if this be no more beneath the skies, 

Unutterable the heritage of pain. 



HBV1GE TO MT7LE ONES. 

iE very kind, dear children to your grandmother. 
I know sometimes little folks think grandma is fus- 
sy; and that she thinks such a little noise is too 
much. But, dear children, you can think how hard it 
is, for grandma to bear noise, pleasure and trouble all 
mixed, when your mamma and all your uncles and 
aunts were children like you. She used to be just as 
patient as your mamma is with you. If it had not been 
for dear good grandma, you would not have had such 
a dear loving mamma. It was she who taught mamma 
to be so nice and good, and mamma is trying to teach 
you now. 

62 



ONE VERSE H BflY. 

REALIZING the truth of the statement that very 
few persons are in the habit of memorizing Script- 
ure, a number of Christians have agreed upon a sys- 
tematic arrangement by which there shall be a uniform 
study of the word of God. Only one verse each 
day. It seems so little, but in the course of a year it 
will treasure up in the heart twelve chapters of thirty 
verses each. 

In the time of temptation we need the Word hid in 
the heart. When "the fiery darts of the wicked" once 
were hurled against the man Christ Jesus, He neither 
used nor needed other defense than "It is written," 
and, mortified and discomfitted, "the devil leaveth him, 
and behold, the angels came and ministered unto Him." 
The Lord will magnify the law, and make it honorable in 
the deliverance of His people when beset by sore temp- 
tation. "Thy word have I hid in my heart," says 
David "that I might not sin against Thee." Yet the 
"word" which was so precious to David was all com- 
prised in a few books of the Old Testament, now con- 
sidered by many dry and obsolete. 

In time of distress what can bring comfort and con- 
solation but the tender, gracious words of our heavenly 
Father, cherished in the heart as its most precious 
treasure ? 

Not by bread alone, but "by every word that pro- 
ceedeth out of the mouth of God shall man live." Is 
not the lack of this daily food the cause of that absence 

63 



SIX GOOD RULES. 



of spiritual life which we so constantly deplore? In 
our busy, hurried lives if there is no time to feed upon 
the word, the soul is starved. Hide it in the heart, 
and amid all life's pressing cares and anxieties we can 
meditate upon it day and night. 

So in time of doubt — in this questioning age, when 
we live in an atmosphere of unbelief, which benumbs 
the senses and deprives the soul of the power of resist- 
ance, our only weapon is ' 'the sword of the Spirit, 
which is the word of God." If we would have our faith 
increased, if we would enjoy the peace and repose which 
comes from perfect trust in God, we must know God. 
' 'They that know thy name/' says the Psalmist, "will 
put their trust in Thee." How can we know God save 
by daily studying the revelations which He has made 
of Himself? 



Sf\ Q00D RULES. 

Acquire thoroughly. This puts the knowledge in. 
Review frequently. This keeps the knowledge. 
Plan your work. This begins well. 
Never think of self. Selfishness spoils all. 
Never look back. Waste no time over failures. 
Earn, save, give all you can for jesus. Happiness. 

T is easy to say, 'Know thyself,' but who is to intro- 
duce you? Most people go through life without 
making the advantageous acquaintance in question; 
and if a friend should take the liberty of introducing 
you to yourself you would hate him forever." 

64 



Cs^-J 



THE BKftLE Op 7 MPE. 

|0 forth to the battle of life, my boy, 
?f Go while it is called to-day ; 
^For the years go out and the years come in, 
Regardless of those who may lose or win, 
Of those who may work or play. 

And the troops march steadily on, my boy, 

To the army gone before ; 
You may hear the sound of their falling feet 
Go down to the river where two worlds meet : 

They go to return no more. 

There's a place for you in the ranks, my boy, 

And duty, too, assigned ; 
Step in to the front with a cheerful face ; 
Be quick or another may take your place 

And you may be left behind. 

There's work to be done by the way, my boy, 

That you can never tread again — 
Work for the loftiest, lowliest men — 
Work for the plow, plane, spindle, and pen — 

Work for the hands and the brain. 

The serpent will follow your steps, my boy, 

To lay your feet a snare ; 
And pleasure sits in her fairy bowers, 
With garlands of poppies and lotus of flowers 

Inwreathing her golden hair. 

6 5 



GOOD ADVICE. 



Temptations will wait by the way, my boy, — 

Temptations without and within ; 
And spirits of evil, with robes as fair 
As those which the angels in Heaven might wear, 

Will lure you to deadly sin. 



Then put on the armor of God, my boy — 

In the beautiful days of youth ; 
Put on the helmet and breast-plate and shield, 
And the sword that the feeblest arm may wield 

In the cause of right and truth. 




Then go to the battle of life, my boy, 
With the peace of the gospel shod, 
And before high heaven do the best you can 
For the great reward and the good of man, 
For the kingdom and the crown of God. 






G00I3 HBV1GE. 

|JI|I|Y advice is," said Isaac Walton, '/that you en- 
ftHft deavor to be honestly rich, or contentedly poor: 
^^ but be sure that your riches are justly got, or 
you spoil all. For it is well said, 'He that loses his 
conscience has nothing left that is worth keeping/ 
Therefore be sure you look to that. And in the next 
place look to your health: and if you have it, praise 
God, and value it next to a good conscience; for 
health is a blessing that money cannot buy; therefore 
value it, and be thankful for it. As for money, neglect 

66 



GOOD ADVICE. 



it not; but note there is no necessity for being rich. 

"I have a rich neighbor who is always so busy- 
he has'no leisure to laugh: the whole business of his 
life is to get money, and more money. That he may 
still get more and more money, he is still drudging on, 
and says that Solomon says, 'The diligent hand 
maketh rich;' and it is true indeed. But he considers 
not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man 
happy; for it was wisely said by a man of great obser- 
vation, 'There be as many miseries beyond riches as 
on this side of them.' And yet God deliver us from 
pinching poverty; and grant, that having enough, we 
may be content and thankful. Let us not repine, or so 
much as think the gifts of God unequally dealt, if we 
see another abound with riches; when, as God knows, 
the cares that are the keys that keep those riches, hang 
often so heavily at the rich man's girdle, they clog him 
with weary days and restless nights, even when oth- 
ers sleep quietly. 

"I have heard a grave divine say, that God has two 
dwellings; one in heaven, and the other in the meek 
and thankful heart; which Almighty God grant to me.'" 



UPPOSING all the points of Atheism were formed 
into a kind of a creed, I would fain ask whether 
it w T ould not require an infinitely greater measure 

of faith than any set of articles which they so violently 

oppose. 

6; 






BE KIN 13 J0 /V\0THER. 

lllpiY boys, be kind to mother, 
) j V t For she's been kind to you ; 
~^0^-- She's sought to lead you safely 

Your life's brief pathway through. 
She's cared for )'ou and loved you, 

And tried to save you pain, 
And gave a kindly counsel^ — 
I hope not all in vain. 

She wants to see you happy, 

She wants you to be true ; 
Her hope and pride are centered, 

Believe it, boy, in you. 
How much of joy and comfort 

Is in your power to give 
This faithful loving mother, 

If rightfully you live. 

Be manly, true and honest 

In everything that's done, 
And show her that her counsel 

Is treated by her son ; 
Be kind when old age sprinkles 

Its snowflakes in her hair, 
And make her last days happy 



With loving words of care. 



-W. J. Sloan. 



Faith like the diamond, is valuable in proportion to 
the degree of light it can catch and reflect. 



68 




WITH THY MIGHT 

fF there is a disgusting specimen of 
physical mechanism, in some faint 
measure animated by what is com- 
monly understood to be a soul, in this 
fallen world, it is a downright lazy per- 
son. To drone this drawling, yawning, 
supremely tired characteristic into a professedly chris- 
tian life is an attempt to harmonize most unnatural as- 
sociations. While these constitutionally languid peo- 
ple, with two strong hands that only hang down until 
their strength seems almost paralyzed to weakness, are 
to be in some sense pitied, they are to be in a very pos- 
itive sense seriously blamed. A natural tendency to in- 
dolence, if indulged, marvelously increases by such fos- 
tering. Especially is laziness an abhorrent abomina- 
tion when personifying a gospel minister. If there is 
a soporific curse on this earth which tends to paralyze 
the moral and spiritual force of a church, it is a minis- 
ter who has a relish for nothing but resting, eating and 
sleeping. When the church finds they have a walk- 
ing, or rather moping specimen of inherited tiredness, 
the best way they can do is to call a meeting and 
pray God to either put some sort of life or ambition 
into him, or in some gracious way rid the church of 
him. It is feared that there is occasionally one who is 
too superlatively lazy to work, and thinks it would be a 
nice thing to take up the ministry and live at ease. 

6 9 



A WOMAN'S WIT. 

Such are only suited to "wearing out the patience of 
the saints." It is very evident that God never calls 
such a conglomeration of indolence to the office and 
work of the ministry. God calls to labor, to earnest 
activities. The lazy minister should either shake off 
this sloth and get to work for God, or give place to 
some one who will work. 



a wows wg. 

R Adler tells a good story about a verbal sparring 
match between the Emperor Hadrian and a rabbi. 
Said the Emperor: "Why, your God is represent- 
ed as a thief, for he surprised Adam in his sleep and 
robbed him of one of his ribs." The rabbi's daughter 
craved permission to reply and when her request was 
granted she said: "Let me implore thine imperial pro- 
tection. A great outrage has been inflicted upon us." 
"What has happened?" said the Emperor. She an- 
swered, "In the darkness of the night an audacious thief 
broke into our house. He took a silver flagon from 
our chest of plate and left a gold one in its place. ,r 
"Would that such a robber would visit my place every 
day!" said Hadrian. "And was not the Creator such 
a thief as this?" retorted the girl; "For he stole from 
Adam a rib, and in lieu thereof gave unto him a living, 
loving - wife." 



A little knowledge wisely used is better than all 
knowledge disused. 

70 




Ff?TER. 

i/rE know that when the clouds look darkest 
And spreads their shade around — 
If we could look beyond their portals, 
The sunshine would be found ; 
And when the storm beats o'er us fiercely, 

Crushing our flowers to earth — 
That when the tempest's reign is over 
They will have fairer birth. 

So, when life's cares almost o'erwhelm us, 

And we sink down dismayed, 
When hope's fair promises all fail us, 

And — even trust betrayed — 
Fairer for having been o'ershadowed, 

Our blessings will shine forth 
After the storm is over. Its coming 

Has proved true friendship's worth. 



T is a very short way of argument, to call one a com- 
promiser, or if in a very great hurry, and with a 
larger stock of zeal than experience, to call those who 
differ with us in judgment ''wolves in sheep's clothing," 
and other not very musical terms. But then this is 
only one of the incidentals of this transitory life; and 
as much as within us lies, we will look on the bright 
side. Sometimes farther acquaintance will demonstrate 
Integrity where it was not looked for. In the midst of 
all, the best is, that our own and the faults of others 
may, through faith in Christ, be no more remembered 
against us. There is wrong enough to correct. Let 
us see to that at home first and help others afterwards. 

7i 



s^r 



THE SHEPHEIWS HPPEfili. 

•p„AVE you seen my lamb that has gone astray, 

1|M| Afar from the shepherd's fold, 

~z&M Away in the deserts "wild and bare," 

Or on the mountain cold ? 
Have you ever sought to bring it back 

By a word, or a look, or a prayer, 
Or followed it on where it wandered alone, 

And tried to reclaim it there ? 

Ye gather each week in the place of prayer, 

And ye speak of your love for me, 
And pray that your daily life may bear 

Some fruit that the world may see. 
Ye mean it well ; but, when once away, 

Do you live that life of prayer ? 
Is the soul of the lamb that's gone astray 

Your chief and greatest care ? 

Ye* speak of the good that ye mean to do 

Among your fellow men ; 
Yet ye tarry oft 'mid the joys of earth 

They are watching your footsteps then. 
And while ye have stopped for pleasure or ease 

The lamb that has gone astray 
Has wandered farther 'mid darkness and sin 

Along the forbidden way. 

Ye meet in your counting-house rooms for gain, 

And count the cost each day ; 
Do ye ever count what the cost may be 

Of the lamb that has gone astray ? 

72 



WOMAN* S INFLUENCE. 



The cost of that soul will far out-weigh 
Your stocks and your piles of gold. 

Can you leave your gain and wealth untold 
To erather it into the fold ? 



s> 



It is perishing now in the bleak and cold 

While 3'e might have saved its life. 
Are ye thinking too much of your ease and your gains- 

To enter the Christian strife ? 
When the reck'ning is called and the balance made, 

Will the wealth of a single day . 
Atone for the loss of a dying soul — 

For the lamb that has gone astray ? 

— F. Marsh. 



|||j|30MAN holds the balance of power over man; 
Wfflffl and she can throw that balance to the side she 
i.^n will — either for his good or for his ruin. Her 
influence can make man pure, brave and strong, or 
make him stoop to things so weak and unbecoming; 
things not criminal, perhaps, yet so beneath a proper 
dignity that the blushes of shame will mantle his cheek 
when away from that presence. Whiskey makes a man 
beastly, money will make him avaricious, woman can 
make life good or evil — as she chooses. 

— Marion Murphy. 



Never purchase friends by gifts, for if you cease to 
give they will cease to love. 

73, 



FR@M MITliE 70 GREAT. 

|^ANY years ago, an invalid lady whose home 
|H was in the country, visited a large city near 
which she lived, on a sultry August day. She 
had business in some of the smaller streets and alleys, 
and was appalled at the number of pale, puny and sick 
babies in their mother's arms who were literally dying 
for a breath of fresh air. What should she do? 

"I cannot save all," she said, "but I may save one. 
There is room for a mother and her child at home." 

She took the one mother and her child to her coun- 
try home, kept them for a fortnight, and then took 
them home and brought others. Her neighbors fol- 
lowed her example. The next summer the number of 
children entertained amounted to hundreds; the next 
thousands. 

Another woman who lived in the city and had no 
money to give was vexed that she could not help in the 
most gracious charity. 

"lean at least tell others of it," she said. She 
wrote an account of it for a New York newspaper. 

A third woman possessed of great wealth, sent a 
thousand dollars to the editor with the request that he 
should open a fund for this noble purpose. The Fresh 
Air charity was the result. The various organizations 
throughout the United States for the removal of the 
poor children from the poisonous air of the cities to the 
country have grown out of this first attempt of a single 
weak woman to save one dying baby. 

74 



LIFE'S BURDENS. 



During the last two years the charity has taken root 
in England and on the continent. No one but God 
knows how many lives have been saved by it. 

If the woman who thought of it on that torrid day as 
she passed, sick and weary, through the slums, had 
decided, "I cannot save all, why should I trouble my- 
self with one?" how many lives that might have been 
saved would have been lost! 



& 



MfE'S BURDENS. 

j^|IFE has a burden for every man's shoulders, 

None may escape from its burdens and care, 
Miss it in youth and 'twill come when you're old, 
And fit you as close as the garments you wear. 
Sorrow comes into our lives uninvited, 

Robbing our hearts of their treasures of song. 
Lovers grow cold and friendships are slighted, 

Yet somehow or other we worry along. 
Somehow or other the path grows brighter — 

Just when we mourn there are none to befriend, 
Hope in the heart makes the burden seem lighter, 
And somehow or other we get to the end. 



The worthy man who does good in this life will re- 
ceive in the age to come, "a reward for that which he 
hath done" as well as be blessed now in the act of do- 
ing right. 



75 



MWJ IWE IT T0 H^R?. 

[HERE'S many a trouble 
Would break like a bubble, 
And into the waters of Lethe depart, 
Did not we re-hearse it, 
And tenderly nurse it, 
And give it a permanent place in our heart. 1 

There's many a sorrow 

Would vanish to-morrow, 
Were we not unwilling to furnish the wings, 

So sadly intruding 

And quickly brooding, 
It hatches out all sorts of horrible things. 

How welcome the seeming 

Of looks that are beaming, 
Whether one's wealthy or whether one's poor, 

Eyes bright as a berry, 

Cheeks red as a cherry, 
The groan and the curse and the heart-ache can cure. 

Resolve to be merry, 

All worry to ferry 
Across the famed waters that bid us forget ; 

And no longer tearful, 

But happy and cheerful, 
We feel life has much that's worth living for yet. 



7 6 



THY Vflkli. BE DONE. 

M" HAVE only one prayer to pray 
ft To the dear Lord up in heaven 
^ Who watches over and cares for me 
And everything needful hath given. 

But I was long, so long in learning, 
Though the letters were bright as the sun,. 
But I've got them at last, thank God ! 
It is this : Thy will be done. 

Thy will be done ! 'Tis music now 
To my heart, where once 'twas pain. 
For I've found He doeth all things well, 
What once was loss, I find is gain. 

So many, many, times I have prayed 

For things I thought must be so. 

And murmured 'gainst God for granting not,. 

But now I thank Him for saying " No. " 

So much better He doeth for me, 
Than I could ever think or ask, 
I've learned whatever He bids me do, 
To call a pleasant and cheerful task. 

Whatever the way, whether dark or light 
Come sickness, sorrow or pain. 
My Father I know with all-seeing eye, 
Will bring about my eternal gain. 

77 



THY WILL BE DONE. 

When loved ones are taken from my embrace, 
And trouble shall come without measure, 
I still will trust. He'll guide my steps, 
Whither he hath taken my treasure. 

There are sweets enough in Jesus 
For the bitterest cup of woe 
That ever was pressed to earthly lips, 
If the drinker could see it so. 

But we see now with human eyes, 

As we wander sad and lone ; 

Take courage heart ! We soon shall know 

As even also we are known. 

Thy will be done ! God grant our eyes 
May look towards His Son. 
Not lips alone, but heart still cry, 
Thy will be done ! Thy will be done ! 



F it were possible to enter heaven and find no Father 
there, heaven would be the grave of hope. But 
^ what will make the heavenly house a home is that it 
will have, not friends and brethren only, but a Father, 
whose presence will fill it, and make itself felt in the 
pulse of every heart. 



A man that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds 
green, which otherwise would heal and do well. 

7« 



THE GRU8E TtW |?WLE7H 

S thy cruse of comfort wasting ? Rise and share 
it with another, 
^F And through all the years of famine, it shall 
serve thee and thy brother. 

Love divine will fill thy storehouse, or thy hand- 
full still renew ; 

Scanty fare for one will often make a royal feast 
for two. 

For thy heart grows rich in giving : all its wealth 

is living grain ; 
Seeds which mildew in the garner, scattered, fill 

with gold the plain. 

Is the burden hard and heavy ? Do thy steps drag 

wearily ? 
Help to bear thy brother's burden ; God will bear 

both it and thee. 

Numb and weary on the mountains, wouldst thou 

sleep amidst the snow ? 
Chafe that frozen form beside thee, and together 

both shall glow. 

Art thou stricken in life's battle ? None but God 
its void can fill ; 

Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain can its cease- 
less longing still. 

Is the heart a living power ? Self-entwined, its 

strength sinks low ; 
It can only live in loving, and by serving love will 

grow. 

79 



7 Gq 7 SOUR, 

MAN will always find enough in this world of 
worry and want, to try his patience and test his 
good nature; but, whatever comes, he had better 
keep sweet. Sweetness is the condition of preservation. 
Whatever is naturally sweet must be kept sweet or be- 
come worthless. Fruit is good for nothing after it 
sours. A man looses his attractions when he sours on 
the world, and his best friends included. We know of 
able ministers whose usefulness is practically at an end 
because they are thought to be "sour. " They speak, 
look, and act their acidity. Some one in times past 
slighted them; and the sweetness of their hearts began 
to acquire the quality of tartness. The coagulating 
process kept right on, its work is now completed. 

Coleridge speaks of a "sour, gloomy, miserable 
man." You can find that man to-day in every rank of 
life, but the pity is that any christian minister is so. 
Who wants to follow the leadings, or receive the teach- 
ing of a crabbed, peevish, discontented pastor? His 
look is forlorn, his speech crusty and harsh, and his 
temper morose. It is all he can do to get into a 
mood to pray. He dare not show his acrimonious 
spirit when addressing the eternal throne, and so for a 
moment he calls back his banished sweetness and talks 
pleasantly with God. The people hear him and fancy 
that he will be sociably agreeable again, but no sooner 
does he rise from his knees than the old acerbity is 

80 



TRUE POLITENESS. 



manifested in every lineament of his countenance. 
Poor man! He is not what he once was. He turned 
sour before he stopped to think, and he cannot work 
himself back to his former state. It is easy to turn 
molasses into vinegar, but not easy to transform vine- 
gar into molasses. If you are sweet to-day keep 
sweet. Guard yourself against morose feelings. 
Laugh when you want to frown, and sing when you 
feel like scolding. Curb your temper. If you must 
drink worm-wood, don't ask others to share your cup. 
Walk not in darkness. Get into the sunshine. Take 
on brightness. Consider what is good and beautiful 
and true, and ask God to help you to assimilate these 
qualities into your own unhappy nature. 



TRUE POMWESS. 

fRUE politeness is always free from ostentation. 
To do a kind act and then publish it to the world 
is not polite, and to do an act in hope of reward 
Is not polite. The effusiveness of a waiter who expects 
a fee, the porter tipping his hat to the hotel guest, or 
the boy who directs you on your way and then holds 
out his hand for a cent — these acts spring from mercen- 
ary motives, and although agreeable are certainly not 
polite. 

A New York man who went on a trip with his wife 
to Boston tells that in the elevator of his hotel he met 
a pleasant-faced and quiet-spoken gentleman, who, on 
seeing strangers desirous of seeing the city, escorted 

a-i 



NEVER BE IDLE. 



the couple about for nearly half a day. Among the 
places visited were the City Hall and the mayor's office. 

"Which is the mayor ?" asked the New Yorker of 
his guide, there being half a dozen persons in the office 
as they entered. 

"I am the mayor," was the astonishing reply. 

That was true politeness, and if it pervades Boston, 
the city has a right to call itself the "Hub." 



NEVER BE IDLE, 

DLENESS means ruin just as stagnation means de- 
cay. You can catch better things than early worms 
by rising early in the morning sometimes, that will 
paint your cheek, quicken your pulse, brighten your 
eye, and give you such an appetite as will make break- 
fast a treat, tea a delight, and — no room for supper. 
Besides, it's only one early bird that catches the worm. 
Every early boy can catch the benefit I speak of. And 
what the boy learns to love, the man will turn to ac- 
count, while his hay will be better and more abundant 
than an idler's, his corn, his carrots and his cucumbers 
will be finer, better and more abundant, too; and just 
when the idle man is thinking he ought to have a 
fortune, the early one will be wrapping his up and run- 
ning off to the bank with it. The boy who says it is 
music to hear the milk man and chimney-sweep from, 
between the sheets will most likely take his bed to es- 
cape his creditors by and by. 



^ 



82 



M SAT and mused ; 

r I felt so weary with the strife, 

^ I asked myself the question, "Is the prize 

I strive so hard to win, 
Worth all the toil, rebuff and pain, 

The jostle and the din ?" 
I listened ; 

And a voice, from where I knew not, came 
And to my heart it whispered : 

"The prize heed not ; that aim would selfish be ; 
Work thou with all thy might and mind, 

And leave the rest to me." 

" But who art thou ?" I asked. 

11 1 thought the prize to be a stimulant to urge me on ; 
To elbow through the crowd ; to lead ; 
To trample under foot all that oppressed, 

And thus make greater speed." 
The voice replied : 

"If thou wouldst learn my name, heed my behest- 
Think naught of self, nor what will be thy gain ; 
Relinquish not one whit of toil, whatever be thy pain. " 

Musing, my eyelids drooped ; 
I slept, and dreamed : 

Floating in azure blue, 
A castle was within, painted with sun-tint rays — 

It seemed so real I thought my dream were true. 
Spurred by ambition's lusts, 
So eager to possess, I forged my way 

83 



HOW TO DO GOOD. 

Through swamp, up craggy height, o'er desert 
sands; 
It seemed within my grasp ! I reached ; — 
And lo ! I woke with empty, clenched hands. 

Walking, I looked me round; demolished was the 
castle 

That builded in my dream ; I only saw 

Instead of it the wreck ; 
I had naught left me but to learn the name 
Of him who spake ; I followed as he bade me, 

And found his name was Faith. 



How 70 do 6@@B. 

jglftE who waits to do a great deal of good at once, 
will never do anything. Life is made up of little 
things. It is but once in an age that occasion is 
offered for doing good. True greatness consists in 
being great in little things. How are railroads built? 
By one shovel at a time. Thus drops make the ocean. 
Hence we should be willing to do a little good at one 
time and never wait to do a great deal of good at once. 
If we would do much good in the world, we must be 
willing to do it in the little things, little acts one after 
another; speaking a word here, giving a tract there, 
and setting a good example all the time; we must do 
the first thing we can, and the next and then the next, 
and keep on doing good. This is the way to accom- 
plish anything. Thus only shall we do all the good in 
our power. 

34 



60MPORT ®NE AN0IHER. 

OMFORT one another 

For the way is growing dreary, 
The feet are often weary, 
And the heart is very sad. 

There's a heavy burden-bearing, 
When it seems that none are caring, 
And we half forget that we were ever glad. 

Comfort one another 

With the hand-clasp close and tender, 
With the sweetness love can render, 

And the looks of friendly eyes. 

Do not wait with grace unspoken, 
While life's daily bread is broken ; 

Gentle speech is oft like manna from the skies. 

Comfort one another : 

There are words of music ringing 

Down the ages, sweet as singing 
Of the happy choirs above. 

Ransomed saint and mighty angel, 

Lift the grand, deep-voiced evangel, 
Where for-ever they are praising the eternal love. 

Comfort one another 

By the hope of Him who sought us, 
In our peril — Him who bought us, 

Paying with His precious blood ; 
By the faith that will not alter, 
Trusting strength that will not falter, 

Leaning on the One divinely good. 

85 



1 



WIND IS NOT WORK. 

Comfort one another : 

Let the grave gloom lie beyond you, 
While the Spirit's words remind you 

Of the home beyond the tomb ; 

Where no more is pain or parting, 
Fever's flush to tear-drop starting, 

But the presence of the Lord, and for all His 
people, room. 



WIND IS M@7 WORK. 

|IND is not work any more in the religious line 
than in the commercial. We say of a man in 
the commercial world who is given to blowing 
about his business and his accomplishments, what he is 
going to do, etc., that he is a blow-hard, and men have 
little confidence in such a person. A successful busi- 
ness man who has many traveling men in his employ 
said: "Give me a man who says little and works 
much." In the religious field to-day, we need to look 
out for those who are full of wind in regard to God's 
work and who are given to boasting and really blowing 
about what they are going to do; but watch them, they 
never do anything else. They are religious blow- 
hards. You and I cannot judge of each other's work 
and we ought not to try to, but when we see one given 
to empty words and plans, we ought to pray earnestly 
that God would show him the danger and then look 
out for ourselves that we do not fall into a similar 
habit. It is extremely easy to talk and stop and let it 
end there. 

"Few words and much work" should be our motto. 

86 



T(4E BtytyM. 

BjKUR brains are seventy-year clocks. The Angel of 
Wjj Life winds them up once for all, and closes the 
^case and gives the key into the hands of the Angel 
{ Resurrection. Tick tac! tick tac! go the wheels of 
Lought; our will cannot stop them; they cannot stop 
lemselves; sleep cannot still them; madness only makes 
iem go faster; death alone can break into the case,, 
id seize the ever-swinging pendulum, which we call 
ie heart, silence at last the clinking of the terrible es- 
ipement we have carried so long beneath our wrinkled 
>reheads. 

Oliver W. Holmes. 



Y@UR H1§WY> 

"T is said of Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia, 
that once, when out in a sailing boat, he became 
so angry at some offense given by one of the men,, 
lat he seized him and was about to throw him over- 
oard. The man had but time to say, "You may 
rown me but your history will tell of it." Struck by 
ie force of this fact, the Emperor relaxed his hold and 
esisted from his terrible purpose.. 

Boys and girls, do you know that the acts and words 
f every day will make up something of your history?" 
)nce in a while some act will be performed that wilL 

87 



mow no YOU DO? 



mark a special point in your life. It may be an act of 
blessing, it may be some dreadful dark deed; in either 
case it will loom up out of the past, and will determine 
in great part the character you shall form and the rep- 
utation you shall bear for life. As the colors and fig- 
ures woven into a fabric determine its character, so 
the acts, the words, the thoughts, that are woven into 
your every day life will determine with unfailing accu- 
racy what your life shall be. 



HOW 00 Y0I4 130 Y 

^OW do you do? " I do with my might 

Just as I'm told, when I'm told to do right. 
^M I strive for promotion by doing my best, 
My mother and teacher can tell you the rest. 
I speak when I'm spoken to, come when they call, 
And strive to be kind and respectful to all. 
It is nothing to boast of, what-ever I do, 
I wish it were more and were better, don't you ?" 

How do you feel ? " Sorry and mean, 
When I do a wrong act, whether hidden or seen. 
But I feel like a bobolink, joyous and bright, 
When I take the straight path and try to do right. 
It sometimes seems hard, but it turns out the best, 
And then I feel glad and can laugh with the rest. 
I can caper and jump, "and turn somersaults too ; 
It may not look nice, but I like it, don't you ? " 

What do you know ? " Very little, it's true, 
Compared with my elders, but that's nothing new. 
If I study in earnest/I hope to know more 



BECAUSE SHE WAS BLIND. 

When I get to be twenty and on to four-score. 
Wisdom may come with gray hairs, if not now, 
When wrinkles of care settle deep on my brow, 
And boys will look up and honor me then, 
When I'm a judge and stand among men." 

What do you do ? " I study and work ; 

I don't want to be a mean sneak or a shirk. 

I have my home duties, and do them with care, 

In that and every thing try to be square ; 

Tobacco and liquor I shun as a foe, 

And stand by my colors wher-ever I go. 

What more can I do, except love and obey 

My Maker and parents and heed what they say. " 



BEGflUSE SHE WAS BMM0. 

SUFFICIENT excuse for pettishness, and selfish- 
|ffi| ness, and grumbling, one might suppose. But 
_> ~^ what a reason for giving! 

At a missionary meeting in Paris, a poor blind wo- 
man put twenty seven francs into the plate. "You 
cannot afford so much," said the man who was holding 
the plate. "Yes, sir, I can," she answered. On be- 
ing pressed to tell how she could give so much she 
said: "I am blind; and I said to my fellow straw-work- 
ers, 'how much money do you spend in the year for 
oil for your lamps, when it is too dark to work 
nights?' They added it up in their minds, and found 
it was twenty-seven francs. So," said the poor wo- 
man, "I found that I save twenty-seven francs in the 
year because I am blind, and do not need a lamp; and 
I give it to send light to the dark heathen lands." 

89 



80pG8 IN THE NIGHT. 

JJfT is said of a little bird that it will never learn to sing 
?J| the song its master would have it sing, while 
^ there is light in the cage. It learns a snatch of every 
song it hears, but it will not learn a full separate melo- 
dy of its own. But the master covers the cage and 
makes it dark all about the bird, and then it listens and 
learns the song that is taught it, until it becomes its own. 
Ever after that it sings that song in the light. 

It is much so with us. We will not sing the song 
God would have us sing till He puts us into the darkness 
of true conviction. Then the blessed Saviour can teach 
us a new song, and ever we will sing it in the light He 
gives. The sweetest songs are sung by those who 
have just come out of darkness and God "who giveth 
song in the night" will give us joy and peace in believ- 
ing, that our songs, begun in the darkness of sorrow, 
like the angel anthems over the plains of Bethlehem, 
shall roll on in perpetual fullness of the perfect day that 
is to come. 

"Sing we the song to angels given 
High o'er the plains of Bethlehem ; 

Glory to God in highest heaven, 

And peace on earth, good will to men. 

Loud as the thunder's mighty roar 
Roll back the anthem to the sky ; 

And, breaking on the eternal shore, 
May its glad echoes never die." 

90 



RIM HIGH. 

IM high, my boy, and strive to climb 
The heights where heroes stand, 
4^ Whose purposes were all sublime, 
And aspirations grand. 

Each hero's life, a lesson is, 

And if you read it well, 
It gives you help and strength, and this 

Is what it has to tell : 

Be true ; be earnest for the right 

In every time and place ; 
Toward high endeavor's beacon light 

Set steadfastly your face. 

Be brave of heart ; if sore defeat 

O'er-take you in the way, 
Then with fresh zeal and courage meet 

The foe another day. 

The great men of the world are those 
Who swerved noj: left nor right 

When base, ignoble men opposed, 
But kept the goal in sight ! 

Though baffled, beaten for a time, 

From each defeat we gain 
A strength that makes the strife sublime, 

And takes away its pain. 

Be brave, be steadfast, and be true ; 

And ever, as you climb, 
Keep God's clear beacon light in view, 

And win, in His good time. 

91 



RESPONSIBILITIES. 

tT is a high, solemn, almost awful thought for every 
individual man, that his earthly influence, which has 
commencement, will never, through all ages, were 
he the very meanest of us, have an end! What is done 
lias always blended itself with the boundless, ever-living, 
ever-working universe, and will also work there for 
good or evil, openly or secretly, throughout all time. 
But the life of every man is as the wellspring of a 
stream, whose small beginnings are indeed plain to all, 
but whose ulterior course and destination, as it winds 
through the expanse of the infinite years, only the 
Omniscient can discern. Will it mingle with neighbor- 
ing rivulets as a tributary, or receive them as their 
.sovereign? Is it to be a nameless brook, and will its 
tiny waters, among millions of brooks and rills, in- 
crease the current of some world's river? Or is it to 
be itself a Rhine or Danube, whose going forth are to 
the uttermost lands, its floods an everlasting boundary 
line on the globe itself, the bulwark and highway of 
whole kingdoms and continents? We know not; only 
In either case we know its path is to the great ocean; 
its waters, where they are but a handful, are here, and 
cannot be annihilated or permanently held back. 

— Carlyle. 



O Lord, Thou knowest how busy I must be this day. 
If I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me. 

— Sir Jacob Ashley. 
92 



KEEP BUSY, 



d|F you expect God to choose you for a great work, 
f| be busy; he seldom selects idlers. When he wish- 
^ ed a deliverer for Israel, he went into the wilder- 
ness for Moses, who was watching sheep; when he 
wanted a man to save his people from the Midianites, 
he sent for Gideon, who was threshing wheat; when he 
wanted a man after his own heart to be king of Israel, 
he sent for David who was keeping sheep. Idlers do 
not suit; the Lord wishes those who are not only will- 
ing to work, but who are hard at it. Idlers are too 
often lazy, and that may be the cause of their idleness. 
Such seldom have ambition to take care of themselves, 
let alone caring for the Lord's work. But idlers suit 
Satan exactly. He likes such as have no ambition, for 
they make the best slaves. The devil wants slaves for 
his work, but God wants something better. He wishes 
men and women who have ambition, who take an inter- 
est in their work; he wishes persons who are anxious 
to rise, for he means to promote them some day. 
From servants he adopts them into his family, and 
makes them as children. 



Those who place their hope in another world have 
in a great measure conquered the dread of death and 
unreasonable love of life. 



93 



pfHERE'S something in a noble boy, 

A brave, free-hearted, careless one, 
fp With his unchecked, unbidden joy, 

His dread of books and love of fun ; 
And in his clear and ready smile, 
Unshaded by a thought of guile ; 

And unrepressed by sadness— 
Which brings me to my childhood back, 
As if I trod its very track, 

And felt its very gladness. 

And yet it is not in his play, 

When every trace of thought is lost, 
And not when you would call him gay, 

That his bright presence thrills me most. 
His shout may ring upon the hill, 

His voice be echoed in the hall. 
His merry laugh like music thrill, 

And I in sadness hear it all — 
For like the wrinkles on my brow, 
I scarcely notice such things now. 

But when, amid the earnest game, 

He stops, as if he music heard, 
And, heedless of his shouted name 

As of the carol of a bird, 
Stands gazing on the empty air, 
As if some dream were passing there,, 

'Tis then that on his face I look — 
His beautiful but thoughtful face — 

And, like a long forgotten book, 
Its sweet, familiar meaning trace. 

94 



CHRIS TIA N CO UR TES ¥. 

Remembering a thousand things 

Which passed me on those golden wings, 

Which time has fettered now ; 
Things that came o'er me with a thrill, 
And left me silent, sad and still, 

And threw upon my brow 
A holier and a gentler cast, 
That was too innocent to last 



' Tis strange how thoughts upon a child 
Will like a presence sometimes press ; 
And when his pulse is beating wild, 

And life itself is in excess — 
When foot and hand, and ear and eye, 
CTAre all with ardor straining high — 
How in his heart will spring 
A feeling whose mysterious thrall 
Is stronger, sweeter far than all ! 
And on its silent wing, 
How with the clouds, he'll float away, 
As wandering and as lost as they. 




GHR1ST1MN 60URTESY. 

f|T a sanitarium, recently, a young collegian was no- 
ticeable for his kind and courteous treatment of 
invalids there. Every day he gave time and at- 
tention to one and another of the patients, particularly 
to the one most helpless. His manner always seemed 
to say, "It is real pleasure to me to be of use to you." 
So gentle, so courteous, did he show these attentions, 
that he became a marked figure in groups gathered in 

95 



CHRIS TIA N CO UR TES T. 



halls or parlors, attracting to himself the regard and 
good will of all who saw him. It was not a surprise 
to be told that he was preparing for the ministry, and 
it needs no prophet's vision to fore-see for him power 
and usefulness through his rare gift of christian courtesy. 
Why was this young man so particularly noticeable? 
Was it not because courtesy like his is conspicuously 
infrequent? Are our young men in college, or out of 
college, generally characterized by courtesy? Are re- 
spect and kindness, good will and consideration, shown 
to others by the majority? And, not to single out 
young men, but men in middle life, or advanced in 
years, marked by courtesy in manner? Are not the 
men who take pains to treat others politely the excep- 
tions? Certain conventional forms of politeness are 
observed in society life; but these do not govern the 
actions of men in the places of business, on the streets, 
in traveling, and elsewhere. A truly courteous man 
will be so in his office, or in the cars, as well as in the 
parlor. He will treat strangers kindly, will respond to 
their questions, and listen to their statements as pleas- 
antly as to those whom he calls his friends. 

"The train of years goes slowly out of sight, 

Time freighted each and into darkness bound, 
And leaves but a feeble, fading light 

To copy negatives from memory's ground ; 
But even these so indistinct at first, 

We straightway spoil with our shallow tears, 
As though 'twere folly that we chose the worst, 
And leave us nothing but our silly fears." 



9 6 



Worth remembering. 

fHE wisest fellows, as we think, are those who 
agree with us. 
Contentment does not demand conditions, it 
makes them. 

Whistling does not make the locomotive go, it is the 
silent steam. 

Now is always the very best time if we will only 
make it so. 

To be really yourself you must be different from 
those around you. 

The ups and downs of life are better than being down 
all the time. 

Man may growl, grumble and fight, but it has no ef- 
fect upon natural right. 



WANTS 0(7 0AM MpE, 

J4EARN to entwine with prayer the small cares, tri- 
f/jf fling sorrows, and the little wants of daily life. 
Whatever effects you — be it a changed look, an 
altered tone, an unkind word, a wrong, a wound, a de- 
mand you cannot meet, a sorrow you cannot disclose — 
turn it into prayer and send it up to God. Disclosures 
you may not make to man, you may make to the Lord. 
Men may be too little for your great matters. God is 
not too great for your small ones. Only give yourself 
to prayer, whatever be the occasion that calls for it. 

97 



STEPPING 0N R SHADOW, 

^INE dark night a man who was about to leave a 
steamboat saw what he supposed to be a gang- 
plank, but it was only a shadow. He stepped 
out upon it, and, of course, fell into the water below. 

He thought he was taking the right way, but his 
thinking so did not make any difference in the result so 
long as he really did not take it. 

Just so in matters of far greater importance. You 
must be right, not merely suppose you are right, if you 
are to avoid the evil consequences of wrong-doing. 
This man might have put it to the proof whether it was 
the gang-plank or not, before trusting himself upon it. 
Do not be like him but test your beliefs and see if they 
are well grounded. Many a young man has been ruin- 
ed by a course of conduct which at first he felt sure 
w T ould do him no harm. Many a man has followed his 
own notions of what is right, instead of taking God's 
word as a guide, and wakened in eternity to find that 
he has stepped on a shadow and fallen. 



T(HE BEST PHASES OPEN. 

HE average excellence of the age is high; but one 
ISbf of its imperative needs is great leaders, and these 
^ in every department of human endeavor. Turn 
over the historical pages where you will, and one truth 
remains the same, that a supreme man has always made 
a supreme event. 

9 8 



THE BEST PLACES OPEX. 



To be practical, we ask an observation to business 
concerns. They have grown so large and spread so 
widely, as to need men of consummate ability for their 
direction. 

Dr. Mains tells of several prominent New York firms 
which are hunting for an individual "at the top," and 
though he may command his own price, they have not 
yet found him. A first-rate insurance company recent- 
ly revealed the salary of the head manager. 

"Is that not an enormous price?" we asked a finan- 
cial authority. 

"No, sir, " responded he, "it is purely a good busi- 
ness price, considering the man." 

Money is no object, providing the leader of the fu- 
ture "fills the bill." The highest skill, with perfect 
trustworthiness added, is just now in great demand. 

There are problems, social and political, which non- 
thinking people are apt to think insolvable. The truer 
statement is: We need commanding men to think 
them out; men whose moral and mental understanding 
will insure respect, whose judgments will catch the list- 
ening ear. And we believe these leaders are coming. 
They may be developed out of our very need. If any 
market is governed by supply and demand, this one is. 
Even as we write we are convinced that climbing slow- 
ly but surely to the top are the watchmen who shall 
first discern the dawn. And as the revolution gave us 
Washington, the civil war Lincoln, so shall difficulties 
and labor troubles produce in like manner the men who 
can solve them. This much is safe, that every young 
man has a brilliant future for his character and useful- 

99 



GOD WANTS OUR LOVE. 



ness providing he has character and usefulness for his 
future. 

The elevated rights of a more advanced civilization 
are before our eyes. Who, like Napoleon crossing 
the Alps, will rush forward to their summit and bid his 
fellows follow? Certainly no temporizer; no coward, 
paltering with the truth; nor yet the "smart" man who 
lacks moral fiber. Expedience cannot always rule. 
Right must and only perpetually endure. The poets 
sing this; the philosophers who think, and orators who 
persuade, say — for them (and for us, if we are among 
them) there is "room at the top." All honors men pay 
to their greatest benefactors are just where they have 
ever been, — within the reach of a young man's brave 
and pure endeavor. 



G00 WflNTS @UR LBVE, 



OD is not expecting very much of us in the way of 
conduct. His joy is not in the things we do, but 
in seeing his own image reflected in us. It is the 
love of the child every true parent wants, and not its 
service. All that the service can do is to testify to the 
love in the heart. What God wants first of all, is love, 
not work. 



I hate to see a thing done by halves; if it be right, 
do it boldly; if it be wrong, leave it alone. 

— Gilpin. 
100 



THE GROSS AND THE GROWN. 

H'HE cross for only a day, 
^ The crown forever and aye ; 
The one for a night that will soon be gone, 
And one for eternity's glorious morn. 

The cross, then, I '11 cheerfully bear, 

Nor sorrow for loss or care ; 
For a moment only the path and the strife, 
But through endless ages the crown of life. 

The cross till the conflict's done, 
The crown when the victory's won : 
My cross never more remembered above 
While wearing the crown of this matchless love. 

His cross I '11 never forget, 

His marks on his brow are set ; 
On his precious hands, on his feet and side, 
To tell what He bore for the church, his bride. 

My cross I'll think of no more, 
But strive for the crown set before ; 
That ever through ages my song may be 
Of his cross that purchased my crown for me. 

The work of redemption done, 
His cross and his crown are done ; 
The crimson and gold will forever blend 
In the crown of Jesus, the sinner's friend. 



IOI 



NO BADGER 0(7 PER8EGUJ10N, 



lit 



l|HERE is a kind of fish that resembles sea-grass. 
It hides itself in the midst of marine vegetation. 
^ J Below is the head, looking like the bulb of the 
plant, and above is the body and the tail, looking like 
the blade of sea grass. The ocean currents sway the 
fish and the grass alike, and so the little fish escapes 
being devoured by its enemies. They swim along, and 
one can hardly perceive where fish leaves off and grass 
begins, so perfect is the disguise. 

Now, there are a great many christians whose lives 
are so blended with the world that they cannot easily 
be distinguished. They are swayed by worldly max- 
ims and habits; they share with the world in its sin- 
ful pleasure. The difference between such christians 
and worldlings is not apparent. If this is the kind of 
christian life you are living, you need not be afraid of 
persecution; the world will not think it worth while to 
molest such a christian as that. You will not know 
what it is to drink of the cup that Christ drank of, and 
to be baptized with the baptism that He was baptized 
with. But let a man confess Christ as his Master; let 
him engage in some aggressive christian work, and he 
will meet the same opposition which was experienced 
by the One who said, "I came not to send peace, but a 
sword." 

— Edward Judson. 




102 



fHE lines of a woman's face are the tracings of her 
life history. Temper, emotions, principles, are 
**" plainly written there. A woman who exists like 
an oyster can keep her face unlined. The woman who 
lives, must expect to show the march of years. Too 
many women play with their emotions; they cater to 
nervous excitement. Then reality fails to furnish the 
necessary portion; fiction, sensational reports of dis- 
asters — commercial, social, accidental — becomes the 
basis of supply. To thrill becomes as necessary as to 
breathe, and every emotion leaves its tell-tale mark 
and becomes the enemy that deprives life of power. 



flLL F@R THE MBJ, 

ECURE is that soul in the midst of affliction 
Who sees in each sorrow the hand of his God, 
And knowing all things for his good work together, 
Unquestioning bows 'neath each stroke of the rod : 
Oh, blest is that heart that, when tossed by tempest, 

Can cling to this hope as a bird to its nest, 
And say, with a faith by each trial made stronger, 
"The dear Father knows — it is all for the best." 

Each blossom of hope in our lives may be blighted, 

Swept by adversity's pitiless blast ; 
Clouds of misfortune o'ershadow our pathway, 

Friends of a life-time prove false at the last; 

103 



ALL FOR THE BEST. 

The heart may be sad and the way may be lonely, 
And rough be the path by the weary feet pressed, 

Yet faith pleadeth ever, oh, fail not to trust Him : 
"The dear Father knows — it is all for the best." 

The seed that, with weeping, we sow for the Master, 

Unquickened, may lie where it fell by the way ; 
Prayers that were wrung from our hearts deepest anguish, 

Unanswered remain, though we cease not to pray ; 
The Father may hide for a moment His presence, 

And the soul by its doubts and its fears be distressed, 
But faith whispers low, "Though He slay thee, yet trust 
Him." 

" The dear Father knows — it is all for the best. " 

These light afflictions, which but for a moment 

The Father hath sent us His promise to seal, 
Are naught to the weight of glory eternal, 

And far more exceeding, which God shall reveal. 
Some day we shall know why the crosses were given, 

For the angels will summon us home to our rest, 
Where, with faith lost in sight, and with vision grown 
clearer, 

We shall see as God sees, and shall know it was best. 



Jlp OD will have us sure of a things by knowing the 
TO? heart whence it comes; that is the only worthy as- 
^ surance. To know He will have us go in at the 
great door of obedient faith; and if anybody thinks he 
has found a back stair he will find it will land him at 
a doorless wall. 

— George McDonald. 
IO4 



His ewp. 

< JO y° u think that the Lord forgets you,, 
■J/1 Because you must fight and pray, 
And reap the sorrow-harvest 
You've sown from day to day ? 
Do you think that He lets you suffer 

And never heeds your moan ? 
Ah no ! for the dear Lord Jesus 
Will never forget His own. 

Do you think because your heart aches 

With a bitter, cruel pain, 
And your life's sweet, happy sunshine 

Is shadowed by storm and rain, 
And the music is hushed and silenced 

Till you hear but the undertone, 
That the dear Lord Jesus forgets you ? 

He never forgets His own. 

Do you think that because your loved ones 

Are lying cold and still 
Where you cannot hear their voices 

Or work their careless will, 
And the struggle you've made together 

Must now be fought alone, 
That the dear Lord Jesus forgets you ? 

He never forgets His own. 

Do you think that because the sorrow 

All human hearts must know, 
Has come to you or the darling 

You loved and cherished so, 

105 



CONQUERING DEFEAT. 

And the things you want have vanished, 
The things you would call your own, 

That the dear Lord Jesus forgets you ? 
He never forgets His own. 

And we're all His own dear children, 

And He holds us all as dear 
As you do the wayward baby 

Who creeps to your heart so near; 
And if we only listen 

We can hear His tender tone : 
"Oh, rest in p~ace, my children ; 

I never forget my own." 

— Ethel M. Colson. 



G0NSUER1NG 0EpW. 

|i N every life there are mistakes and sins. The holiest 
|1 do not live perfect. The strongest are liable to fall 
^ into sudden and unexpected temptation. The wisest 
will commit grave errors and follies at some time. We 
should know well in such cases how to deal with our 
sins. They must not simply be self-condoned and left 
lying on the path behind us while we hurry on, nor 
must they bring despair to our hearts as we sorrow 
over them; they must be sincerely and heartily repent- 
ed of, and forgiveness for them sought at the feet of 
Him Ave have offended and grieved. Then we must 
rise from disaster and defeat, stronger, purer, nobler, 
through Christ victorious over our own sins and a con- 
queror over our own defeat. 

1 06 



SWEET-MINDED. 

§0 great is the influence of a sweet-minded woman 
on those around her that it is almost boundless. 
It is to her, that friends come in seasons of sor- 
row and sickness, for help and comfort; one soothing 
touch of her kindly hand works wonders in the feverish 
child; a few words let fall from her lips in the ears of a 
sorrow-stricken sister, do much to raise the load of 
grief that is bowing its victim down to the dust in an- 
guish. The husband comes home worn out with the 
pressure of business, and feeling irritable with the 
world in general; but when he enters the cozy sitting- 
room, and sees the blaze of the bright fire, and meets 
his wife's smiling face, he succumbs in a moment to the 
soothing influence which acts as the balm of Giliad to 
his wounded spirits that are wearied with the stern re- 
alities of life. The rough school-boy flies into a rage 
from taunts of his companions, to find solace in his 
mother's smile; the little one, full of grief with her 
large trouble, finds a haven of rest in its mother's 
breast; and so one might go on with instance after in- 
stance of the influence that a sweet-minded woman has 
in the social life with which she is connected. Beauty 
is an insignificant power when compared to hers. 



If good people would make goodness agreeable, and 
smile instead of frowning in their virtue, how many 
they would gain to the good cause. 

107 



[?FGE p FKGE WITH TRBUBIiE. 

fOU are face to face with trouble, 
And the skies are murk and gray : 
^ You hardly know which way to turn, 

You are almost dazed you say. 
And at night you wake to wonder 

What the next day's news will bring ; 
Your pillow is brushed by a phantom care 
With a grim and ghastly wing. 

You are face to face with trouble ; 

A child has gone astray ; 
A ship is wrecked on the bitter sea ; 

There's a note you cannot pay ; 
Your brave right hand is feeble ; 

Your sight is growing blind ; 
Perhaps a friend is cold and stern. 

Who was ever warm and kind. 

You are face to face with trouble ; 

No wonder you cannot sleep ; 
But stay, and think of the promise, 

The Lord will safely keep, 
And lead you out of the thicket, 

And into the pasture land ; 
You have only to walk straight onward, 

Holding the dear Lord's hand. 

You are face to face with trouble ; 

And did you forget to look, 
As the good old father taught you, 

For help in the dear old book ? 

1 08 



FACE TO FACE WITH TROUBLE. 

You have heard the tempter whisper, 

And you've had no heart to pray, 
And God has dropped from your scheme of lifer 

O ! for many a weary day ! 

Then face to face with trouble ; 

It is thus He calls you back 
From the land of dearth and famine 

To the land that has no lack. 
You would not hear in the sunshine ;; 

You hear in the midnight gloom ; 
Behold, His tapers kindle 

Like the stars in the quiet room. 

O ! f ice to face with trouble, 

Friend, I have often stood ; 
To learn that pain hath sweetness, 

To know that God is good. 
Arise, and meet the daylight! 

Be strong and do your best ! 
With an honest heart, and a child-like faith 

That God will do the rest. 

— Margaret E. Sangster. 



Holy Greenham often prayed that he might keep his 
young^zeal with his old discretion. 




109 



IN HIS STEPS, 

LOWLY with bowed head I walked, 
And life seemed dark to me ; 
I knew the clouds overhead 
No sun my eyes could see. 

But as I walked, beside my path 

I saw a flow'ret rare, 
And stopped to pick the earth-born star 

Amid the wild winds there. 

While as I stopped my fingers pressed 

Another by its side, 
And step by step I seemed to find 

My path-way glorified. 

In quick surprise I looked ahead, 

And knew my Lord was there ; 
Every where His feet had pressed 

A flower was springing fair. 

And while my hands with blossoms filled 

I clasped in love the while 
He turned with eyes of tenderness, 

And waited with a smile. 

" Ah, timid one, could you not trust 

My love for you ? " He said ; 
And then were scattered all my clouds, 

And sun-light came instead. 

And often times since He's come, 

To deck my path with flowers, 

And brought me with his hand of love 

A joy 'mid falling showers. 

— E. H. Shannon. 

no 



P^ENGE IN WRITING, 

M STAND erect and look ahead, 
|n A shining goal 1 see, 
^ Just how, or what, I do not know, 
But know that it's enough for me. 

And thus I struggle sore and long 

That shining goal to reach, 
But mind seems dumb, and tongue seems numb, 

I cannot teach or preach. 

And then I would my hands employ, 

My way to work along, 
But find alas ! my hands are tied, 

Then plaintive is my song. 

Then I with willing feet would run, 

But find, they too are fast, 
I cannot even creep along — 

And time is flying past. 

But then I heard a gentle voice, 

From heav n 'twas surely sent, 
So full of love and sympathy 

It stilled my discontent. 

It said not much — but "Only wait 

Till I have wrought in thee 
A work sufficient for thy need, 

Then on thy course canst flee. 

in 



MAC AUL AY'S TRIBUTE TO HIS MOTHER. 

Then thou shalt win the longed-for race 

And serve thy Master well, 
And angels of the God in heaven 

Shall of thy waiting tell. 

And thou shalt conqueror be at last, 

When pain and work are o'er ; 

And then in heav'n with all that serve 

Shall reign forevermore." 

— Cora M. Fowler. 



flflGflUL/W'8 TRIBUTE T@ HIS MOTHER. 

jfpHILDREN, look in those eyes, listen to that dear 
?§ v °i ce > notice the feeling of a single touch that is 
"^ bestowed upon you by that hand! Make much of 
it while yet you have the most precious of all gifts, a 
loving mother. Read the unfathomable love of those 
^eyes; the kind anxiety of that tone and look, however 
slight your pain. In after life you may have friends; but 
never will you have again the inexpressible love and 
gentleness lavished upon you which none but a mother 
bestows. Often do I sigh in the struggle with the 
hard, uncaring world for the sweet, deep security I felt 
when, of an evening, nestling in her bosom, I listened to 
some quiet tale suitable to my age, read in her untiring 
voice. Never can I forget her sweet glances cast upon 
me when I appeared asleep; never her kiss of peace at 
night. Years have passed away since we laid her be- 
side my father in the church yard; yet still her voice 
whispers from the grave, and her eye watches over me, 
as I visit spots long since hallowed to the memory of 
my mother. 

112 




JAY STRENGTH. 

SAT in the deep'ning twilight, 

With faith that was weak and dim, 
^ The dear Lord stood beside me ; 
But I had no thought of Him ; 
My spirit was weary of sinning, 
But blind faith could not see 
The love of a pitying Saviour, 
E'en then so near to me. 

And looking on all the failures, 

The wrong and sin of the day, 
The many times I have left my Lord 

For the broad and sinful way. 
"How can I be His disciple, 

His child ?" I wearily cried, 
And unto my sorrows and weakness 

My Savior gently replied : 

"Child, is it thy strength that shall conquer 
This daily temptation and sin ? — 
Thy righteousness that shall help thee 

Life's victories bravely to win ? 
Trust not in thyself; when thou 'rt weary 

And longing from sin to be free, 
Look upward for help through the trial, 

My grace is sufficient for thee !" 

Then I turned away in the twilight, 
With faith growing strong and clear ; 

113 



A CATECHISM. 

I had not known through the weary day 

That the Lord had been so near. 
And now when my spirit is weary 

And my way I cannot see, 
I think of the loving, helpful words 

That the dear Lord said to me. 

I whisper them over and over, 

Fresh courage they lend to the day, 
And morning, and noontime, and evening 

Make bright with hope's sunshine my way, 
Till with faith that no longer is troubled, 

His dear face I no longer can see, 
While I know tho' my strength is but weakness, 

His grace is sufficient for me. 

— M. L. Bray. 



ID you ever see a counterfeit ten dollar bill? Yes. 
Why was it counterfeited ? Because it was worth 
counterfeiting. Was the ten dollar bill to blame? 
No. 

Did you ever see a scrap of brown paper counter- 
feited? No. Why? Because it was not worth coun- 
terfeiting - . 

Did you ever see a counterfeit Christian? Yes, lots 
of them. Why was he counterfeited? Because he was 
worth counterfeiting. Was he to blame? No. 

Did you ever see a counterfeit infidel? No; never. 
Why? You answer. I am through. 



114 




HOME FIRST 



T : ET home stand first before all things. No matter 
\Jl how high your ambition may transcend its duties, 
no matter how far your talents or your influence 
may reach beyond its doors, before everything else 
build up a kind home! Be not its slave; be its minis- 
ter. 

Let it not be enough that it is swept and garnished, 
that its silver is brilliant, that its food delicious, but 
feed the life in it, feed the truth in it, feed thought and 
aspiration, feed all charity and gentleness in it. 

Then from its walls shall come forth the true woman 
and true man, who shall together rule and bless the 
land. 

Is it an overwrought picture? We think not. 

What honor can be greater than to found such a 
home? What dignity higher than to reign its undis- 
puted and honored mistress? What is the ability to 
speak from a public platform to a large audience, or the 
wisdom that may command a seat on the judge's bench, 
compared to that which can insure and preside over a 
true home that husband and children "rise and call her 
blessed?" 

To be the guiding star, the ruling spirit, in such a 
position, is higher honor than to rule an empire. 



It is one of the easiest, as one of the meanest things 
to be funny at other folk's expense. 



ii5 



IN A WORLD 0fT W0RK- 

(TORK will never cease with me till coffin lids are 
Wp screwed down. It may be here, or it may be 
somewhere else, but under God's providence 
I am going to work out my life. Let me see the man 
who will stop me. As long as there's sympathy for 
the discouraged, patience for the impatient, love for the 
unloved, a tongue for those who cannot speak, so long 
as there are men who need God and cannot see Him, 
so long I'll do God's work among the poor and needy 
in this world. I never sought a high place; I was sent 
here by Providence, and Providence has kept me here. 
I shall stay here or go, by God's providence; live or 
die when God calls me. Living or dying, I am the 
Lord's. My question is simply this: "Lord, what wilt 
Thou have me to do?" That I mean to do, though 
there were ten thousand devils in the way. Hell and 
the devil can't stop me. 

— Henry Ward Beecher. 



BUILDING, 

§OULS are built as temples are — 
Sunken deep, unseen, unknown, 
Lies the sure foundation stone. 
Then the courses framed to bear, 
Lift the cloisters pillared fair. 
Last of all the air)' spire, 
Soaring heavenward, higher and higher, 
Nearest sun and nearest star. 

116 



BUILDING. 

Souls are built as temples are — 
Inch by inch in gradual rise 
Mount the layered masonries. 
Warring" questions have their day, 
Kings arise and pass away, 
Labors vanish one by one, 
Still the temple is not done, 
Still completion seems afar. 

Souls are built as temples are — 
Here a carving rich and quaint, 
There the image of a saint ; 
Here a deep-hued pane to tell 
Sacred truth or miracle ; 
Every little helps the much, 
Every careful, careless, touch 
Adds a charm or leaves a scar. 

Souls are built as temples are — 
Based on truth's eternal law, 
Sure and steadfast, without flaw, 
Through the sunshine, through the snows, 
Up and on the building goes ; 
Every fair thing finds its place, 
Every hard thing lends a grace 
Every hand may make or mar. 

— Susan Coolidge. 



Prayer is so mighty an instrument that no one ever 
thoroughly mastered all its keys. They sweep along 
the infinite scale of man's wants and of God's goodness. 

— Hugh Miller. 



117 



HOLY life is made up of a number of small things 
ffit — little words, not eloquent speeches or sermons; 
"^^ little deeds, not miracles or battles nor one great 
heroic act of mighty martyrdom, make up the true 
Christian life. The constant sunbeams, not the light- 
ning; the waters of Siloam "that go softly" in the 
meek mission of refreshment, not "waters of the river, 
great and many," rushing down in noisy torrents, are 
the true symbols of a holy life. 

The avoidance of little evils, little sins, little incon- 
sistencies, little weaknesses, little follies, indiscretions, 
and imprudences, little foibles, little indulgences of the 
flesh — the avoidance of such little things as those go 
far to make up at least the negative beauty of a holy 
life. 

— BONAR. 



THE S1N @F 0W8810M. 

tT isn't the thing you do, dear, 
It's the thing you leave undone 
^ Which gives you a bit of heartache 

At the setting of the sun ; 
The tender words forgotten, 

The letter you did not write, 
The flower you might have sent, dear, 
Are your haunting ghosts to-night. 

118 



THE SIN OF OMISSION. 

The stone you might have lifted 

Out of the brother's way, 
The bit of hearth-stone counsel 

You were hurried too much to say ; 
The loving touch of the hand, dear, 

The gentle and winsome tone 
That }'ou had no time or thought for, 

With troubles enough of your own. 

These little acts of kindness, 

So easily out of mind, 
These chances to be angels 

Which even mortals find — 
They come in night and silence, 

Each child's reproachful wraith, 
When hopes are faint and flagging, 

And a blight has dropped on faith. 

For life is all too short, dear, 
And sorrow* is all too great, 

To suffer our slow compassion 
That tarries until too late ; 

And it's not the thing you do, dear, 
It's the thing you leave undone 

Which gives you the bitter heartaches 



At the setting of the sun. 



■Margaret E. Sangster. 




II 9 



TRUST IN 60D pi3 00 THE RIGHT 

jjp[OURAGE, brother, do not stumble, 
jBK Though thy path be dark as night ; 
igrf There's a star to guide the humble ; — 
"Trust in God and do the right." 

Let the road be rough and dreary, 

And its end far out of sight, 
Foot it bravely ! strong or weary, 

"Trust in God and do the right." 

Perish policy and cunning ! 

Perish all that fears the light ! 
Whether losing, whether winning, 

"Trust in God and do the right." 

Trust no party, sect, or faction ; 

Trust no leaders in the fight ; 
But in every word and«action 

Trust in God and do the right." 

Trust no lovely forms of passion, 

Friends may look like angels bright ; 

Trust no custom, school, or fashion, 
"Trust in God and do the right." 

Simple rule, and safest guide, 
Inward peace and inward might, 

Star upon our path abiding, 

"Trust in God and do the right." 

Some will hate thee, some will love thee, 
Some will flatter, some will slight ; 

Cease from man and look above thee, 
"Trust in God and do the right." 

120 




70 MfliEW TRUE 5UGGE88. 

HAT will assure success? It needs a combina- 
$™ tion of sound elements to achieve true success 
— call it nerve and brains, or over-drawn as- 
surance, whatever you will. The spirit of push, un- 
bounded perseverance, of untiring patience, is a rec- 
ognized feature of the. true American, and there is no 
reason to mourn its existence, it is a necessary factor 
in modern life. In the midst of the rush and hurry of 
these days a man will be left far in the rear who does 
not make himself aggressive. 

Mere brain power is not enough, there must be some 
means whereby the ability can be manifested. The 
man of mere intellect may be a fine scholar and a 
thoughtful reader, but he can never mingle successfully 
in the business actualities of the world at large. It 
needs a determination to make the world feel the brain 
power of the man, this is the means. It need not be 
shown in a way to annoy or disgust; quietly or persist- 
ently the intellect may be made to influence others. 
The genius of the head may be exerted by the grasp of 
the hand and the genial familiarity which follows there- 
by. It requires pluck and courage. To wait in the 
lowermost place to get an invitation to come higher is 
a pretty poor policy nowadays. If you don't let it be 
known that you are around some other fellow will 
climb over you and achieve wealth and renown. Keep 
looking onward and going onward. Don't stand still. 
To stand still in business is but to go backward. 

— A. H. Revell. 



121 



LBVE'S P0WER. 

WO ladies were overheard talking. Said one, 

JliWf "Do you know Mrs. ?" "O, yes," was the 

^ reply. "She is a good woman." "Yes she is so 
full of love herself that she seems to fill everybody 
else with the same spirit; she draws everybody to her." 
Then the voices were lost in the crowd, and we heard 
no more with the outward ear, but a voice kept sing- 
inp" in our heart — 

o 

" Love is the grace that shall live and sing- 
When faith and hope shall cease, 
And sound from every joyful string 
Through all the realms of bliss. " 

But now abideth faith, hope, love; and the greatest 
of these is love," Ah, yes, "Love suffereth long, and 
is kind; love envieth not; lo\ r e vaunteth not itself, is 
not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seek- 
eth not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of 
evil: rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth 
with the truth: beareth all things, believeth all things, 
hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never 
faileth!" What a model minister's wife must she be 
who is full of grace like that! What a model person 
anywhere, in any station! Can I, even I, aspire to 
such a model? "Beloved, let us love one another, for 
love is of God; God is love; and he that dwelleth in 
love dwelleth in God, and God in him;" "Because 
the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the 
Holy Ghost which is given unto us." 



122 



THE S0NGS 0|? HOME. 

HE world is full of wondrous song, 
^ 1 1 J We pause to hearken, and we hear, 
n§3 Forever sounding, far and near, 
Those sweet vibrations, soft or strong. 

Yet sweeter sounds, and far more dear 
Than to the outward sense can come, 
Is memory's music, soft and clear, 
That rings upon the inward ear, 

The loved, old songs of home. 

We catch the music of the May, 

The tender voice of bird or breeze, 
That trembles tuneful through the trees, 

And faint and sweet from far away 
The mingled murmur of the seas. 
Yet sweeter, dearer far than these, 

Though sirens sang across the foam, 
Are echoed through life's silences, 

The loved, old songs of home. 

The old, old tunes, the sweet old words 
That lips grown silent loved to sing, 
How close around the heart they cling, 

Smiting its truest, tenderest chords. 
Let all the world with music ring, 

Where 'er we rest, where 'er we roam ; 
Not one can touch so sweet a string, 
Or to the heart such rapture bring 

As those loved songs of home. 

— Emma S. Carter. 



123 



8JEP BY §?EP. 

JJ^EAVEN is not reached by a single bound 
WMjJ But we build the ladder by which we rise 
~53&t From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies 

And we mount to its summit round by round. 

I count these things to be grandly true, 
That a noble deed is a step toward God — 

Lifting the soul from the common sod 
To a purer air, and a broader view. 

We rise by the things that are under our feet, 
By what we have mastered in greed and gain, 

By the pride deposed, and the passion slain, 
And the vanquished ill, we hourly meet. 

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we trust 
When the morning calls to its life and light, 

But our hearts grow weary and 'ere the night, 
Our lives are trailing in sordid dust. 

Wings for the angels, but feet for the men, 
We must borrow the wings to find the way — 

We may hope, and resolve, and aspire and pray, 
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.' 

Only in dream is the ladder thrown 

From the weary earth, to the sapphire wall ; 

But the dreams depart and the visions fall 
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone. 

Heaven is not reached by a single bound, 
But we build the ladder by which v/e rise 

From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 
And we mount to its summit round by round. 

— J. G. Holland. 

124 




J§ Y0UNG fAEN, 

'SOWING WILD OATS," OR WHAT SHALL THE HARVEST BE? 

;TT|1HEN a man sows in the natural world 
tM|yj|j he expects to reap. There is not a 
^ farmer who goes out to sow, but ex- 
pects a harvest. Another thing — they all ex- 
pect to reap more than they sow. And they 
expect to reap the same as they sow. If they 
sow wheat, they expect to reap wheat. If they sow 
oats, they won't expect to gather watermelons. If 
they plant an apple-tree, they don't look for peaches 
on it. If they plant a grape-vine, they expect to find 
grapes, not pumpkins. They will look for just the 
very seed they sow. Let me say right here, that igno- 
rance of what they sowed will make no difference in the 
reaping. It would not do for a man to say, "I didn't 
know but what it was wheat I was sowing, when I 
sowed tares." That makes no difference. If I go out 
and sow tares thinking that it is wheat, I've got to 
gather tares all the same. That is a universal law. If 
a man learns the carpenter's trade, he don't expect to 
be a watch-maker, he expects to be a carpenter. The 
man who goes to college and studies hard, expects to 
reap for those long years of toil and labor. It is the 
same in the spiritual world. Whatsoever a man or a 
nation sows, he and they must reap. The reaping time 
will come. Men may think God is winking at sin now- 
a-days, and isn't going to punish it, because he does 
not execute his judgments speedily; but be not deceiv- 

125 



TO YOUNG MEX. 



ed, God is not mocked, and whatsoever a man soweth 
that shall he also reap. I tremble for those young men 
who laugh in a scoffing way and say, "I am sowing my 
wild oats." You have got to reap them. There are 
some before me now reaping them, who only a few 
years ago were scoffing in the same way. The rich 
man who fared luxuriously, while the poor man sat at 
his gate, and the dogs came and licked his sores, the 
reaping time has come for him now. He would gladly 
change place with that beggar now. 

Yes, there will be a change by and by. Men may 
go on scoffing and making light of the Bible, but they 
will find it to be true by and by. I think there is one 
passage that you will admit is true. You very often 
see it in the daily papers, that ' 'murder will out" when 
some terrible crime that has been covered up for years 
has come to light. And there is one passage I would 
like to get every one to remember: "Be sure your sin 
will find you out." There are a great many things in 
this world we are not sure of, but this we can always 
be sure of, that our sins will find us out. I don't care 
how deep you dig the grave in which you try to bury 
them. Look at the sons of Jacob. They thought they 
had covered up their sins, and their father never would 
find out what they had done with Joseph. And the old 
man mourned him for twenty long years. But at last, 
after all these long years had gone, away down in 
Egypt, there Joseph stood before them. How they 
began to tremble. Oh, it has found them out. Their 
sin had overtaken them. Young men, you may have 
committed some sin many years ago, and you think 

126 



SHE KNEW THE AUTHOR. 

nothing is known about it. Don't you flatter yourself. 
God knows all about it, and be sure your sin will find 
you out. Your own conscience may turn witness 
against you by and by. If you sow tares you will reap 
disappointment, you will reap despair, you will reap 
death and hell. If you sow to the Spirit you shall reap 
joy and happiness and eternal life. The reaping time 
is come. What is the harvest going to be? If you 
confess your sin, God will have mercy; He delights in 
mercy. 

— D. L. Moody. 



SHE KNEW THE AUTHOR. 

tT is said that a gentleman in conversation with a 
lady upon the subject of certain of the utterances of 
^ the poet Browning insisted that his interpretation 
of the poet was correct because he was a friend of 
Browning, and enjoyed his personal acquaintance. 
Afterward he chaffed the lady for her faith in the 
Scriptures, which he said was childish and unmeaning. 
''But you forget," was the reply, "That I am acquaint- 
ed with the author." It is this acquaintance with God 
that makes his word so true, so precious, so comforting 
to the devout believer. If we know God, we shall 
surely recognize his word. 



The man who depends on the spur of the moment 
often discovers that particular moment hasn't any spur. 

127 



FORGIVENESS. 

ijOTHING is harder than to forgive a malicious 

fj[ wrong, a harm done us, in a matter where we 
know we are right. 

Sir Eardley Wilmot was an English baronet, widely 
known as a leader in social life, a man of great person- 
al dignity, and force of character. Having been a dis- 
tinguished Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, 
he was often consulted by friends as to perplexing so- 
cial questions. 

On one occasion a statesman came to him, in great 
excitement over an injury just inflicted on him by a po- 
litical leader. He told the story with warmth, and 
used strong ephithets in describing the malice which had 
inflicted the wrong. 

"Is not my indignation righteous?" he asked impet- 
uously. "Will it not be manly to resent such an 
injury?" 

"Yes," was the calm reply. "It will be manly to 
resent it, but it will be God-like to forgive it." 

The answer was so unexpected and so convincing 
that the statesman had not another word to say. He 
afterward confessed to a friend that Sir Eardley's words 
caused his anger to suddenly depart, leaving him a dif- 
ferent and a much better man. 



Spiritual life is strong just in the proportion in which 
it can propagate itself, and inoculate others with its es- 
sential power. 

128 




MOTHER'S WflY. 




|f1jFT within our little cottage, 

As the shadows gently fall, 
While the sunlight touches softly 

One sweet face upon the wall, 
Do we gather close together, 

And in hushed and tender tone, 
Ask each other's full forgiveness 
For the wrong that each has done. 
Should you wonder why this custom 

At the ending of the day, 
Eye and voice would quickly answer, 
"It was once our mother's way." 

If our home be bright and cheery, 

If it holds a welcome true, 
Opening wide its door of greeting 

To the many not the few ; 
If we share our Father's bounty 

With the needy, day by day, 
'Tis because our hearts remember, 

"This was mother's way." 

Sometimes when our hearts grow weary, 

Or our task seems very long, 
When our burdens look too heavy, 

And we deem the right all wrong, 
Then we gain a new, fresh courage, 

As we rise and brightly say, 
"Let us do our duty bravely, 

This was our dear mother's way." 

129 



WHATEVER YOU DO, DO CHEERFULLY. 

Thus we keep the memory precious, 
While we never cease to pray, 

That at last, when lengthening shadows 
Mark the evening of life's day, 

They may find us waiting calmly, 
"To go home our mother's way." 



WHOEVER Y0U 130, 00 6HEER[FUliliY. 



tow! 



WHATEVER you do, do cheerfully, 
As if your heart was in it, 
'Twill smooth the way to the goal you seek, 
And give you strength to win it. 
For little of silver and gold you'll get, 
If you make up your mind to frown and fret ; 
Little of joy for a lonely hour, 
If you never have planted a single flower, 
What though the task a hard one be, 

Still with a smile begin it ; 
And whatever you do, do cheerfully, 
As if your heart was in it. 

The help you give with a cheery word 

Is a double help to your neighbor, 
For it puts a song in the weary heart 

That knoweth no rest from labor. 
For little you'll know of real delight 
If you work for yourself from morn till night, 
And never have a penny to spend, 
Or a loving thought for a needy friend ; 
The thread of life will longer wear, 

If with a song you spin it ; 
So whatever you do, do cheerfully, 

As if your heart was in it. 



130 



ABILITY AND OPPORTUNITY. 

JHESE are the conditions of success. Give a man 
% W power and a field in which to use it, and he must 
accomplish something. He may not do and be- 
come all he desires, and dreams of, but his life cannot be 
a failure. I never hear men complaining of the want 
of ability. The most successful think that they could 
do great things if they only had the chance. Some- 
how or other something or somebody has always been 
in the way. Providence has hedged them in so that 
they could not carry out their plans. They knew just 
how to get rich, but they lacked opportunity. 

Sit down by one who thus complains and ask him to 
tell you the story of his life. Before he gets half 
through, he will give you the occasion to ask him,, 
"Why didn't you do so at that time? Why didn't you 
stick to that piece of land and improve it, or to that 
business and develop it? Is not the present owner of 
that property rich? Is not the man who took up the 
business you abandoned successful?" He will proba- 
bly reply: "Yes, that was an opportunity; but I did not 
think so then. I saw it when it was too late." In tell- 
ing his story he will probably say, of his own accord, 
half a dozen times, "If I had known how things were 
going to turn, I might have done as well as Mr. A. 
That farm of his was offered to me. I knew that it was 
a good one, and cheap, but I knew that it would re- 
quire a great deal of hard work to get it cleared and 
fenced, to plant trees, vines, etc., and to secure water 

131 



ABILITY AND OPPORTUNITY. 



for irrigation. I did not like to undertake it. I am 
sorry that I didn't. It was one of my opportunities." 

The truth is, God gives to all of us ability and op- 
portunity enough to enable us to be moderately suc- 
cessful. If we fail, in ninety-five cases out of a hun- 
dred it is our own fault. We neglect to improve our 
talents with which our Creator endowed us, or we fail 
to enter the door he opened for us. A man cannot ex- 
pect his whole life shall be made up of opportuni- 
ties, that they will meet him at regular intervals as he 
goes on, like milestones by the roadside. Usually he 
has one or two, and if he neglects them, he is like a 
man who takes the wrong road where several meet. 
The further he goes the worse he fares. 

A man's opportunity usually has some relation to his 
ability. It is an opening for a man of his talents and 
means. It is an opening for him to use what he has, 
faithfully and to the utmost. It requires toil, self- 
denial and faith. If he says, "I want a better oppor- 
tunity than that, I am worthy of a higher position 
than it offers;" or if he says, "I won't work as hard 
and economize as closely as that opportunity de- 
mands," he may, in after years, see the folly of pride 
and indolence. 

There are young men all over the land who want to 
get rich, and yet they scorn such opportunities as A. 
T. Steward and Commodore Vanderbilt improved. 
They want to begin, not as these men did, at the bot- 
tom of the ladder, but half way up. They want some- 
body to give them a lift, or carry them up in a balloon, 
so that they can avoid the early and arduous struggles 

132 



IT CANNOT BE DONE. 



of the majority of those who have been successful. No 
wonder that such men fail, and then complain of Prov- 
idence. Grumbling is usually a miserable expedient 
that people resort to, to drown the reproaches of con- 
science. They know that they have been foolish, but 
they try to persuade themselves they have been un- 
fortunate. 



17 6PP7 m D0NE, 

ijlSjATHER up my influence and bury it with me," 
Wf were the dying words of a young man to the 
weeping friends at his bedside. What a wish is 
this? What a deep anguish of heart there must have 
been as the young man reflected upon his past life — a 
life which had not been what it should have been. 
With what deep regrets must his very soul have been 
filled as he thought of those young men he had influ- 
enced for evil; influences which he felt ought to be 
eradicated, and which led him faintly, but pleadingly, 
to breath out such a dying request, "Gather up my 
influence and bury it with me." 

Young men, the influence of your lives for good or 
evil cannot be gathered up by your friends after death, 
no matter how earnestly you may plead. Then, re- 
member, your influence is now going out from you; 
you alone are now responsible; you have now the 
power to govern and shape it.. Then live noble, true, 
heroic, God-like lives. 



133 



ONLY ONE MOTHER. 

pOU have only one mother my boy, 

Whose heart you can gladden with joy, 
J ^J Or cause it to ache, 

Till ready to break, 
So cherish that mother, my boy. 

You have only one mother, who will 
Stick to you through good and through ill, 

And love you, although 

The world is your foe — 
So care for that love ever still. 

You have only one mother to pray 
That in the good path you may stay ; 

Who for you won't spare 

Self-sacrifice rare — 
So worship that mother alway. 

You have only one mother to make 
A home ever sweet for your sake, 

Who toils day and night 

For you with delight — 
To help her all pains ever take. 

You have only one mother, just one — 
Remember that always, my son ; 

None can or will do 

What she has for you, 
What have you for her ever done ? 



134 



TtHEY WERE ALL POOR BOYS. 

^f'OHN Adams, second President, was the son of a 
Ml farmer of very moderate means. The only start 
^ he had was a good education. 

Andrew Jackson was born in a log hut in North 
Carolina, and was raised in the pine-woods for which 
the State is famous. 

James K. Polk spent the earlier years of his life help- 
ing to dig a living out of a new farm in Xorth Carolina. 
He was afterwards a clerk in a country store. 

Millard Fillmore was the son of a New York farmer, 
and his home a very humble one. He learned the busi- 
ness of clothier. 

James Buchanan was born in a small town in the 
Alleghany Mountains. His father cut the logs and 
built a house in what was then a wilderness. 

Abraham Lincoln was the son of a very poor farmer 
in Kentucky, and lived in a log cabin until he was 
twenty-one years old. 

Andrew Johnson was apprenticed to a tailor at the 
age of ten years by his widowed mother. He never 
was able to attend school, and picked up all the educa- 
tion he ever had. 

General Grant lived the life of a common boy in a 
common house on the bank of the Ohio River, until 
he was seventeen years of age. 

James A. Garfield was born in a log cabin. He 
worked on the farm until he was strong^enough to use 
carpenter tools, when he learned the trade. He after- 
wards worked on the canal. 



135 



OVERWORK A|slD UNDERWORK. 

f[VERY one has heard of the danger of overwork, 
yet few understand .just where the danger lies. A 
man can hardly overwork himself if he takes care 
of himself in other respects — secures a normal amount 
of sleep, breathes pure air, takes exercise, and eats 
food moderately. 

The main trouble is that the man who is overworking 
is violating fundamental conditions of health. He 
burns his candle at both ends. 

With due care, a man with good heredity is capable 
of safely doing an almost incredible amount of solid 
work. Mr. Gladstone at eighty-three, with no show 
of weariness, carried the weight of the British Empire. 
The celebrated John Wesley did more work than almost 
any other man of the last century; but he observed the 
laws of health, and still active, reached his eighty- 
eighth year. 

Much of the so-called overwork is the overwork of 
worry, care, anxiety and haste. These make the sever- 
est draft on the vitality of the system. 

We seldom hear of Quakers dying of overwork, 
and yet they are a very industrious people. The pupil 
who has prematurely broken down in his studies might 
have gone on under even heavier loads if there had 
been nothing to fret him in his home surroundings, and 
competition, examinations and scholarship markings, 
had no place in our school system. The fact is, work,, 
and plenty of it, is healthy in a high degree. 

136 



VISIT YOUR PA RESTS. 



And this leads us to say that a lack of work, of the 
brain or hand, is highly injurious. Underworking may 
be as harmful as overworking to the brain if not to the 
body. Nations living in conditions in which livelihood 
come almost without effort are in every way feeble. 
Close confinement in prison tends to idiocy. 

Further, when the mental faculties are not called in- 
to action the moral also lie dormant, and the lower 
propensities become all-controlling. In all ages the 
corruptions of the higher classes are due to this fact. 
Few worse things can befall one than to have nothing 
to do. 



VISIT Y0UR PARENTS, 

tF you live in the same place, let your steps be — if 
possible daily — a familiar one in the old home; if 
you are miles away — yea, many miles- away — make 
it your business to go to your parents. In this matter 
do not regard time or expense; the one is well spent,, 
and the other will be, even a hundred-fold, repaid. 
When some day the word reaches you, flashed over the 
telegraph, that your mother is gone, you will not think 
them much, those hours of travel which at last bore 
you to the loved one's side. 



The brightest bow we only trace upon the darkest 
skies. 

—Frances Ridley Hayergal. 



137 




* 



P63U1E86EM6E i\i JflE 01tt|NE WILL 



■ 



Bllll HAT know I of what is best, 

Oh ! my Father ! kind and wise ! 
Thy great love is manifest, 
Let whatever scenes arise ; 
Health or sickness, choose for me ; 
As thou pleasest, let it be. 

What know I of what is best ? 

Who could always bear the light ? 
In thy changeless love I rest, 

Knowing well thy ways are right. 
Light or darkness, choose for me ; 
As thou pleasest, let it be. 

What know I of what is best ? 

Human knowledge is but small ; 
Trusting thee my soul is blest, 

Kept by thee, I cannot fall ; 
Fain or pleasure, choose for me ; 
As thou pleasest, let it be. 

What know I of what is best ? 

'Tis enough that thou art nigh ; 
Since my hand by thine is pressed, 

Who can be more safe than I ? 
Strength or weakness, choose for me ; 
As thou pleasest, let it be. 

138 



A WORTHY AMBITIOX. 

What know I of what is best ? 

Earth and heaven alike are mine 
Grace can stand the sternest test, 

Living, dying, I am thine ; 
Life or death, Lord, choose for me ; 
As thou pleasest let it be. 



R W0RTHY WWTWN. 

voEJ^OUNG man! if God has given you brains, heart 
%\?) and voice, speak out. There are great reforms 

^ to be carried on. The whole nation needs awak- 
ening. Speak out, sir, and your speech will be wel- 
come, wherever and on whatever particular branch of 
reform you choose to make yourself heard. Lift up 
your voice for that which is "honest, lovely, and of 
good report." Not in mere word harangue, not in 
windy palaver, not in grandiloquent spouting, not in 
weary, drawling verbosity — not in jabbering garrulity 
which is heard only when the speaker must be deliver- 
ed of a speech. But in the words of true, sanctified 
earnestness, opening your mouth because you have 
something useful to say, saying it with the genuine, 
unstudied eloquence which comes right from the heart, 
and in all cases closing your mouth the moment you 
have done. 



Do you wish to sow that which will produce fruit? 
Then ' 'cast thy bread (truth) upon the waters (before 
the people) for thou shalt find it after many days." 
Ecclesiastes 1 1 : i. 

139 



THE EARNEST MINISTER. 

fOULD I but preach as I saw the woe 
Which, like a sea, spreads over all below, 
pi As if I heard earth's weeping millions cry, 
"Give us the light before we faint and die," 
With eloquence of words and tears, I then 
Would rouse the church to pity dying men. 

Oh, could I preach as if my heart was fired, 
By gazing on the cross where Christ expired — 
As if it felt the mighty love that he, 
By dying pangs, proved his own love to be — 
How soon would guilty, stubborn souls embrace 
The joyful tidings of redeeming grace ! 

Oh, could I preach as Christ would have me do 
With heaven and hell immediately in view — 
With heart inflamed with pure, seraphic love, 
Like those that wait and minister above — 
What victories, then, would from my labor spring 
To honor Christ, my blessed Lord and King ! 

Oh, could I preach as if I saw the day — 
Dark day of doom, of sorrow and dismay, 
When weeping mercy shall in tears retire, 
And burning justice wrap the world in fire — 
How would the thoughtless and the giddy hear, 
And apathy give way to anxious fear. 

Oh, could I preach as I will wish at last, 

When days and months and rolling years are past^ 

And just before me in deep mystery, lies 

The world unseen as yet by human eyes, 

How would I agonize to love to bring 

Mankind in sweet submission to their King. 

140 



WANT OF DECISIS. 

GREAT deal of labor is lost in the world for the 
want of a little courage. Every day sends to their 
graves a number of obscure men, who have only 
remained- in obscurity because their timidity has pre- 
vented them from making a first effort, and who, if they 
had only been induced to begin, would in all probabili- 
ty have gone great lengths in the career of fame. The 
fact is, that in doing anything in the world worth doing, 
we must not stand shivering on the bank, thinking of 
the cold and danger, but jump in and scramble through 
as well as we can. It will not do to be perpetually cal- 
culating risks and adjusting nice chances; it all did very 
well before the flood, when a man could consult his 
friends upon an intended publication for a hundred and 
fifty years, and live to see its success for six or seven 
centuries afterwards; but at present a man waits and 
doubts, and consults his brother, and uncles, and his 
particular friends, until one day he finds that he is sixty- 
five years of age, and that he has lost so much time in 
consulting first cousins and particular friends, that he 
has no more time to follow their advice. There is so 
little time for over-squeamishness at present, that the 
opportunity slips away. The very period of life at 
which a man chooses to venture, if ever, is so confined 
that it is no bad rule to preach up the necessity, in such 
instances, of a little violence done to the feelings and 
efforts made in defiance of strict and sober calculations. 

—Sidney Smith. 



141 



THE MOTHER. 

HERE is no human love like a mother's love. 
: There is no human tenderness like a mother's ten- 
^ derness. And there is no such time for a mother 
displaying her love and tenderness toward her child as 
in the child's earliest years of life. That time neglect- 
ed, no future can make good the loss to either mother 
or child. That time well improved, all the years that 
follow it can profit by its improvement. Even God 
Himself measures His Fatherly love by a motherly 
standard. "As one whom his mother comforteth, so 
I will comfort you," He says. What more than this 
could be asked? Many a strong man who was first 
comforted by his mother's loving, tender words and 
ways, while he was a helpless child, has never lost his 
grateful, trusting dependence on that mother's ministry 
of affection and sympathy. 

When gruff old Dr. Johnson was fifty years old, he 
wrote to his aged mother as if he were still her way- 
ward but loving boy: "You have been the best moth- 
er, and I believe the best woman in the world. I thank 
you for the indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness for 
all that I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to 
do well." 

John Quincy Adams did not part with his mother 
until he was nearly or quite fifty years of age, yet his 
cry, even then, was: "O God, could she have been 
spared yet a little longer. Without her the world feels 
like a solitude." 

142 



WORTH OF CHARACTER. 



When President Nott, of Union College, was more 
than ninety years old, and had been a college president 
for half a century, as sense and strength failed him in 
his dying hours, the memory of his mother's tenderness 
was fresh and potent; and he could be hushed to 
needed sleep by a gentle patting on the shoulder, and 
the singing to him of the old-time lullabys, as if his 
mother was still sitting by his bed-side in loving minis- 
try, as she had been well nigh a century before. The 
true son never grows old to a true mother. 



WBRTH 0(7 GtfHRHGTER. 

||HE two most precious things this side the grave 
are our reputation and our life. But it is to be la- 
mented that the most contemptible whisper may 
deprive us of the one, and the weakest weapon of the 
other. A wise man, therefore, will be more anxious to 
deserve a fair name than to possess it, and this will 
teach him so to live, as not to be afraid to die. 

— Geo. H. Colton 



fHE earnest men are so few in the world that their 
very earnestness becomes at once the badge of 
^ J their nobility, and as men in a crowd instinctively 
make room for one who seems eager to force his way 
through it, so mankind everywhere open their ranks to 
one who rushes zealously toward some object lying be- 
yond them. 

—Timothy Dwight, D. D. 
H3 



NOTHING 10 P/W. 

tOTHING to pay ! Ah, nothing to pay ! 

// Never a word of excuse to say ! 

4 Year after year thou hast filled the score, 
Owing thy Lord still more and more. 

Hear the voice of Jesus say, 
" Verily thou hast nothing to pay ! 
Ruined, lost, art thou, and yet 
I forgive thee all thy debt. " 

Nothing to pay ! The debt is so great ; 
What will you do with the awful weight ? 
How shall the way of escape be made? 
Nothing to pay ! yet it must be paid ! 

Hear the voice of Jesus say, 
"Verily thou hast nothing to pay! 
All has been put to my account, 
I have paid the full amount." 

Nothing to pay ; yes, nothing to pay ! 
Jesus has cleared all the debt away, 
Blotted it out with His bleeding hand ! 
Free and forgiven, and loved you stand, 

Hear the voice of Jesus say, 
" Verily thou hast nothing to pay ! 
Paid is the debt, and the debtor free ! 
Now I ask thee ? lovest thou ME ?" 

— Frances R. Havergal. 



All useless misery is certainly folly, and he that feels 
evils before they come, may be deservedly censured, 
yet surely to dread the future is more reasonable than 
to lament the past. 

144 



]^\OW little they cost, and how much good they do. 
|1|) What a cold and cheerless world this would be 
^ without them. And yet we do not have half 
enough of them. 

I believe many a poor drunkard or fallen woman 
might be won back to the right path, if they could have 
kind words, and looks, instead of frowns, cold shoul- 
ders, and hard words. What humanity needs is more 
sympathy and love, to feel that some one cares for 
them. A good way is to give a friendly nod and a 
bright smile to every one, even those we are not ac- 
quainted with. 

I remember once spending the day with a lady 
friend, and during the time had occasion to pass the 
"kitchen help; " as I did so, I gave her a nod and smile, 
but should never have thought of it again had not my 
friend told me shortly after that she had a compliment 
for me, and then went on to say that the girl had just 
said: 

"Sure Missis, and ye have a very beautiful lady in 
the parlor to-day." 

She asked what made her say that, and she replied: 

"Because she looked right at me and laughed." 

"You ought to see how happy she is over it," said 
my friend. 

Poor creature, I knew she was not accustumed to 
smiles. It did not matter to her that day, that her 

H5 



ADVICE. 



mistress had company and she had extra work to do, 
so long as the 'beautiful lady" had smiled on her. 

We may not see the reward of our smiles so soon, 
but we must sow, if we ever expect to reap. 

I know a lady who is the most successful Sunday- 
school teacher I ever saw. During the ten years she 
has been in our school, she has had charge of every de- 
partment, and with such marked success as to cause 
envy in some instances. 

Do you ask her secret? She simply smiles on each 
one and makes them feel they are wanted right there. 

Dear young people, you may with-hold your confi- 
dence, be cautious of your words, not lavish of your 
love; but if you wish to be happy and make others so, 
freely give your smiles. 



H0VIGE, 

iOYS, if in this world you would succeed, 
You must be brave and true : 
Don't stand aloof and slight your work, 
Because 'tis hard to do. 
If troubles come and sorrows rise 

Then show yourself a man ; 
Let courage nerve you for your work, 
And do the best you can." 




146 



dUST @NE DAY. 

If T ought not to be hard to live well just one day. 
fl Anyone should be able to carry his burden, or fight 
his battle, or endure his sorrow, or stand faithful at 
his post, or do his work, however hard, for just one 
day. Anyone should be able to remember God and 
keep his heart open toward heaven; and remember his 
fellow in need and suffering, keep his hand stretched 
out in helpfulness, for just one day. Yet that is all 
there is to do. We never have more than one day to 
live. We have no to-morrows. God never gives us 
years, nor weeks; he gives us only days. If we will 
fill the little days with faithfulness, the great years will 
pile up monuments and blessings. 



0tiB FRIENDS. 

HERE are no friends like old friends, 
W And none so good and true 
^p We greet them when we meet them, 

As roses greet the dew ; 
No other friends are dearer, 

Though born of kindred mold : 
And while we prize the new ones, 
We treasure more the old. 

There are no friends like old friends, 

To help us with the load 
That all must bear who journey 

O'er life's uneven road : 

H7 



OLD FRIENDS. 

And when the unconquered sorrows 

The weary hours invest — 
The kindly words of old friends 

Are always found the best. 

There are no friends like old friends, 

Where e'er we dwell or roam — 
In lands beyond the ocean, 

Or near the bounds of home : 
And when they smile to gladden, 

Or sometimes frown to guide. 
We fondly wish those old friends 

Were always by our side. 

There are no friends like old friends, 

To calm our frequent fears, 
When shadows fall and deepen 

Through life's declining years : 
And when our faltering footsteps 

Approach the Great Divide, 
We'll long to meet the old friends 

Who wait the other side. 

— David B. Sickles. 



fACH one of us is bound to make the little circle 
in which he lives better and happier; each of us is 
bound to see that out of that small circle the 
widest good may flow; each of us may have fixed 
in his mind the thought that out of a single house- 
hold may flow influences that shall stimulate the whole 
commonwealth and the whole civilized world. 

— Dean Stanley. 



148 



OUR MISSION, 

j||f|UR mission, our mission," repeated little Nellie S. 
one Sunday afternoon, "Teacher said all, every- 
body." 

"What is it Nellie?" asked the mother who had heard 
the child's soliloquy. 

"Why mamma you see our lesson to-day was about 
Christ's mission, how he came to seek and save the 
lost, and teacher said we all had a mission, even little 
boys and girls." 

"What is a mission, Nellie?" asked the mother, wish- 
ing to know if her daughter really understood what she 
was talking about. 

"I don't know as I can tell you just exactly, teacher 
told us all about it, but I don't remember all she said." 

"Never mind to tell me all she said, just tell me what 
you think it is." 

Nellie hesitated a moment, then said: "I suppose it 
is — is just what God wants us to do." 

"Very good, my dear, now what do you think He 
wants you to do?" 

"That is what I was thinking about all the way home, 
and I haven't found out yet; but I am going to keep 
thinking and thinking till I find out, then I am just go- 
ing to go right at and do it." Nellie was right. How 
grand if we all like her would keep thinking and think- 
ing, and asking God what He would have us do, and 
like her, go straight and do it. 

149 



OUR MISSION. 



Some people from a lack of willingness to do what 
is required of them, attempt to deny they have a mis- 
sion. But upon serious reflection I think all will agree 
they have a work to do, a work God requires at their 
hand, nor will He hold him guiltless who attempts to 
shift the responsibility upon another. 

It is true a few have been mistaken in regard to their 
mission. 

Paul, at one time really thought his mission was to 
persecute the saints, make havoc in the churches, enter 
into houses hailing men and women, and committing 
them to prison. But it was not long before Jesus met 
him and deprived him of his sight; and it was at that 
time when the world was shut out, that God got Paul's, 
attention sufficiently to give him his true mission. 
Acts 26: 1 6- 1 7- 1 8. As soon as the change had taken 
place and Paul received his sight, "straightway he 
preached Christ," increasing in moral strength arid bold- 
ness each day until he became the most zealous of all 
apostles. So God wants us as soon as we enter upon 
His work to continually look to Him for a supply of 
strength and grace and boldly proclaim His truth. 

Joshua, when commanded to lead the children of Is- 
rael, after the death of Moses, was commanded to "be- 
strong and of a good courage;" and again the Lord 
said: "Be thou strong and very courageous." Ezeki- 
el, when he was commanded to go and preach to a re- 
bellious nation, was commanded to speak the words of 
the Lord "whether they would hear, or whether they 
would forbear." 

And so we might go on through a long catalogue of 

150 



OVR MISSION. 



the names of God's servants whom He has commanded 
to go forth in His name, doing His bidding regardless 
of the opposition or opinion of men. 

Right here is where many fail in these days. The 
opinions, oppositions, and ridicule of men, the criti- 
cism as to their mode of doing, hinder many really good 
people from attempting that which they feel called of 
God to perform; but such should remember the prom- 
ises of God are sure, and if He wants us to do anything, 
we had better be about it and leave the result with Him. 

Some are not fulfilling their mission for lack of inter- 
est in their fellowmen; others from selfishness; others 
from a love of ease; and a few are waiting to do some 
great thing. But be not deceived; God will never 
waste His grace upon us. We shall never have the abil- 
ity to do great things until we prove ourselves capable 
by obedience in little things. But the cry is: "Where 
shall we work?" 

The very best place is just where you are. 

"What shall we do?" 

Do the duty that lies nearest and you will be sur- 
prised how the way will open for other, and greater 
things. 

"If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do 
them." 



JO all the good you can, 
ll|Jj To all the people you can, 

In all the places you can, 
By all the means you can, 
At all the times you can, 
And as long as ever you can." 



I5i 



young m^wnjs holid^ms bji. 

tLMOST anybody can make a spurt, but only those 
who are soundly principled can stand the long" 
'"^ stretch of heroic effort. "They that wait upon the 
Lord shall renew their strength," this language implies 
there is constant waste, wear and tear, making constant 
renewal necessary; and this is true alike of our physical, 
intellectual and religious nature. We need perpetually 
fresh impulses of power, or presently we shall come to 
a daad stop. And this is the meaning of that other 
Scripture, "He hath saved us by the washing of regen- 
eration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost." The 
first refers to the change that is wrought once for all, 
and the other to that constant impartation of fresh grace 
and strength to repair the loss of power that comes 
from contact with the world; this we must have, and 
this we may have, if we will only keep up our connec- 
tion with our base of supplies. 

"My grace is sufficient," saith the Lord. Only let 
the golden pipes be unobstructed, and the grace will 
flow steadily in; and steady flow is what we want. En- 
thusiasm is powerful, but "patient continuance in well- 
doing" — this, after all, is the thing that wins. 

To "mount upon wings as eagles" is doubtless very 
fine, but to "run and not be weary" finer still; while to 
"walk and not faint" on the long, long tramp is the 
highest of all tests of true soldierly quality. There is 
no "hurrah" about that. Beautiful and enjoyable is the 
flush of feeling, but there will be times when feelings 
faint, and if we simply "go by our feelings" we shall 
presently cease to go at all. 

152 




Ii/\B@R BEFORE REST. 




IjH sing to me not of the "Sweet by-and-by," 
'TMI So long as there's work to be done ; 

Sing not to me now of the mansions on high, 
So long as there's souls to be won. 
But, rather in clear and melodious strain, 
Let the songs of the reapers on mountain 

and plain 
The echoes awaken again and again, 
As we gather the sheaves one by one. 



The mansions are glorious, I know very well, 

That the Savior has gone to prepare ; 
I know that the angelic choruses swell 
Rich and sweet on the heavenly air ; 
I know that the streets are of purest gold, 
That the pearly white gates have a beauty untold, 
That the green tree of life doth its blossoms unfold 
By the banks of the rivers so fair. 

I know that in yon happy, heavenly land, 

The dear ones I loved here below 
Await now my coming — a glorified band, 

In garments washed "whiter than snow." 
Their trials are over, their triumphs complete, 
They rest from their labors at Jesus' feet, 
And join in a song of thanksgiving so sweet, 

For victories won here below. 

153 



LABOR BEFORE REST. 

But, so long as the world doth in wickedness lie, 

And time speeds so swiftly away, 
And the children of men in their sinfulness die, 

And Satan claims souls for his prey ; 
So long as there's one I can win "in His name," 
From a life of iniquity, sorrow or shame, 
Or a poor wandering lost one, whom I can reclaim, 

Just so long in this world would I stay. 

No, no ! I'm not weary ; my soul is aflame ; 

The "strength of the Lord" is my stay ; 
For "Lo, I am with you," his word doth proclaim, 

And I rest on that word every day. 
With the light of his presence for my guiding star, 
I shrink not nor falter in this holy war, 
But, like the fresh horse that scents battle afar, 

I eagerly bound to the fray. 

Oh, glory ! my soul doth exult in the thought 

That He gives me some fighting to do ! 
Awaken, my comrades ! press out as you ought — 

There's a place in this conflict for you ! 
No longer sit singing of rest in the skies — 
Till by scars you can show you have fought for 

the prize ! 
In the name of our King I entreat you, Arise ! 

Press forward — the end is in view ! 

— Mrs. E. E. Williams. 




^§SH 



154 



GHEERfFUliNESS. 

IHEERFULNESS and contentment are small 
things in life, but they are not to be exchanged 
for the wisdom of Solomon, or the combined 
wealth of this entire nation, for they will not give the 
pleasure and happiness of a cheerful, contented spirit. 
What if our road be rough and scattered with thorns, 
does it better our condition to look sad and forlorn? 
Let us be thankful for our many undeserved mercies, 
then we shall have cheerful spirits, and our faces will be 
radient with smiles for all with whom we may meet — 
young and old, rich and poor. 

It is but a little thing to do, but who can measure 
the good a smile may do? The little child will be the 
better and happier for it. The middle aged, burdened 
with the cares of this life, need it, as they toil up the 
mountain height; it will make their steps lighter. The 
aged need it, for in us they are living over their lives, 
now so near the close; and if we are cheerful and smiling 
light will be reflected upon their pathway, in the even- 
ing of their day from our cheerful countenances. 

— m. a. c. 



Climb not too high, lest the fall be greater. 
Defer not till evening what the morning may accom- 
plish. 

Do not throw your opinions in everybody's teeth. 
Don't measure other people's corn by your bushel. 
Eagles fly alone, but sheep flock together. 

155 




WORTHY ©F WE. 

1111 E agree that the following is worthy a boy's no- 
il tice. In fact, he cannot beat it into his head too 
thoroughly, if he hopes to make the fine-grained, 

solid man his mother expects him to be: 

Every time I refuse a drink of liquor I improve my 

manhood. 

Every time I spend a dollar foolishly I am opening 

a pauper's grave. 

Every time I pay rent I am taking so much away 

from a home of my own. 

Every time I speak a kind word I am adding a brick 

to my temple of manhood. 

Every time I buy an article I am encouraging the 

manufacturer or producer. 

Every time I pay a debt I am doing right and help- 
ing to put money in circulation. 

Every time I refrain speaking in defense of a iriend 

I prove that I am not a friend. 



f[VERY day a self-denial. The thing that is diffi- 
I cult to do will be easy three hundred and sixty- 
five days hence, if each day it shall have been re- 
peated. What power of self-mastery shall he enjoy, 
who, looking to God for graces, seeks every day to 

practice the grace he prays for! 

— Anon. 

i 5 6 



HELP Itffi? 60ME8 T@0 liAJE; 

IS a wearisome world, this world of ours, 
With its tangles small and great, 
Its weeds that smother the springing flowers, 
And its hapless strifes with fate, 
But the darkest day of its desolate days 
Sees the help that comes too late. 

Ah ! woe for the word that is never said 

Till the ear is deaf to hear, 
And woe for the lack to the fainting head 

Of the ringing shout of cheer ; 
Ah ! woe for the laggard feet that tread 

In the mournful wake of the bier. 

What booteth help when the heart is numb ? 

What booteth a broken spar 
Of love thrown out when the lips are dumb, 

And life's bark drifteth far, 
Oh ! far and fast from the alien past, 

Over the moaning bar ? 

A pitiful thing the gift to-day 

That is dross and nothing worth, 
Though if it had come but yesterday 

It had brimmed with sweet the earth. 
A fading rose in a death-cold hand, 

That perished in want and dearth. 

Who fain would help in this world of ours, 

Where sorrowful steps must fall, 
Bring help in time to the waning powers, 

157 



GENTLENESS IS CHRIST-LIKENESS. 

Ere the bier is spread with the pall ; 
Nor send reserves when the flags are furled, 
And the dead beyond your call. 

For baffling most in this dreary world, 

With its tangles small and great, 
Its lonesome nights and its weary days, 

And its struggles forlorn with fate, 
Is that bitterest grief, too deep for tears, 

Of the help that comes to late. 

— Margaret E. Sangster. 



GENTLENESS IS GHR187-MKENE88, 

ENTLENESS is Christ-likeness. Jesus, our model 
in everything, is a most wonderful model here. 
He was rejected by "his own," and betrayed by 
his disciples; he was tried, mocked, scourged, crucified; 
and yet he bore all in gentleness and submission, 
never saying a harsh word or doing an unkind deed 
that would afterward need be repented of and forgiven; 
and when afterward he hung upon the cross, and was 
reviled, he reviled not again, but committed himself 
unto Him who judgeth righteously. At all times and 
everywhere He showed that His life was subject to the 
commanding power of the religion that He came to es- 
tablish and to teach. Such gentleness is not to be 
confounded with weakness. It is not timidity or white- 
facedness. It is the truest courage, a Divine virtue, 
the consummate flower of a life filled with the power 
and spirit of love. 

158 



MISTAKES. 

T is a mistake to labor when you are not in a fit con- 
dition to do so. To think the more a person eats, 
^ the healthier and stronger he will become. To go 
to bed at night and rise at daybreak, and imagine that 
every hour taken from sleep is an hour gained. To 
imagine that if some work or exercise is good, violent 
or prolonged exercise is better. To conclude the 
smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in. 
To eat as if you had only a minute to finish the meal 
in, or to eat without an appetite, or continue after it 
has been satisfied, merely to satisfy the taste. To be- 
lieve that children can do as much work as grown peo- 
ple, and that the more hours they study the more they 
learn. To imagine whatever remedy causes one to 
feel immediately better (as alcoholic stimulants) is good 
for the system without regard to the after effects. To 
take off proper clothing out of season because you have 
become heated. To sleep exposed to a direct draft in 
any season. To think any nostrum or patent medicine 
is a specific for all of the diseases flesh is heir to. 



LOOK UP. 

SEVER give way to melancholy. Are you hap- 
15 py? Are you likely to remain so till evening, or 
J ^ next month, or next year? Then why destroy 
present happiness by a distant misery, which may never 
come at all ? Every substantial grief has twenty shad- 
ows, and most of these shadows are of our own mak- 
ing. 

159 



IS h#E WORTH MV-1NG7 

||S life worth living ? " Ask of him 
M Who toils both day and night 
^ To make a little home for those 
So dear unto his sight. 

"Is life worth living?" Ask of her 
Who, crowned with widow's weeds, 

Doth find supremest happiness 
In kind and noble deeds. 

"Is life worth living ? " Ask again 

Of those whose highest aim 
Is to assist their fellow-man, 

Without one thought of fame. 

"Is life worth living ? " Ah ! dear friend, 

Let these good people tell ; 
A better question far is this — 

Is life worth living well ? 



THE NEW 6H14RGH. 

tT was an humble church, no stately steeple 
Looked down upon the river and street ; 
^ An humble church, for humble, toiling people, 
Who hither came, with heavy, aching feet. 

Outside there raged the city's ceaseless riot, 
And careless souls the path to ruin trod ; 

Within, amid a reverent Lord's Day quiet, 
The little church was set apart to God. 

1 60 



THE NEW CHURCH. 

I saw another sight than those rapt faces ; 

I saw a vision of the years to be, 
The throng of those whose forms shall fill these 
places, 

When time shall be no more with you and me. 

More solemn than the solemn invocations, 
More joyful than these joyful notes of praise, 

I heard the prayers of future generations, 
I heard the song of far-off future days. 

I heard the wistful penitent's grieved sighing 
In memory of a sad and wasted past ; 

And high above I heard the angels crying, 
"Rejoice ! the wanderer returns at last ! " 

And then I heard the Master, softly saying, 
"O ye who reared this building for my sake, 

Through toil and sacrifice and fervent praying — 
Most sweet to me the gift is that you make. 

"For once I was exile, bowed with sadness, 
Unhoused, when birds straight to their nests 
might flee ; 

And my remembering heart is filled with gladness 
When those that loved me built a church for me." 



Sins are forgiven through repentance and faith in 
Christ. Sinful nature is cleansed by the blood of Christ 
through faith. 



161 




Y0UR BEST AliWRYS, 

|p[IR Joseph Reynolds was one of the 
most distinguished painters of his 
day, and, in answer to the inquiry, 
how he attained to such excellence, he re- 
plied: "By observing one simple rule, namely to make 
each painting the best." Depend upon it that the same 
thing is true in the service of God. He who wishes to 
preach well should endeavor each time to preach his 
best. The audience may be small, and the hearers illit- 
erate, but the best possible sermon will not be thrown 
away upon them. It may be that the minister is invited 
to make one among several speakers at a tea-meeting. 
Never let him talk mere nonsense to fill up time, as so 
many have done in days past, but let him use the op- 
portunity for quietly uttering some important truths. 
It is for the preacher's own good that he should never 
descend into mere dribble. Beyond all expectation, he 
may be accomplishing a great work, where his only 
idea is that he is doing a little one as well as he can. 
Our firm opinion is that he often accomplishes most 
when the occasion appears to be the least favorable. 

Well do we remember a young man who was called 
to preach on a certain week-day morning at an anniver- 
sary of a village chapel. He was somewhat surprised 
to find that only eight persons were present in a spa- 
cious edifice; but he gave himself up, heart and soul, to 
service as thoroughly as if eight thousand had been gath- 

162 



TOUR BEST ALWAYS. 



ered together. It was a time of refreshing to the eight, 
and to the preacher himself, and so nine were benefitted! 
What was the result? In the evening the audience filled 
the place; the rumor of the morning sermon had been 
industriously spread by the villagers, the scantiness of 
the audience being a factor in the singularity of the 
news; and every available person was mustered to cheer 
the poor young man, who was such a singular preach- 
er. What was far better, there were memorials of good 
having been accomplished in the salvation of souls. A 
brother minister, who was present in the morning, be- 
cause he was the preacher of the afternoon, remarked 
that if it had besen his lot to conduct that morning serv- 
ice, the slender congregation would have taken all the 
life out of him, but that he saw the wisdom of always 
doing one's best under all sorts of circumstances; it would 
be sure to lead up to something larger by and by. Let 
every young speaker think of this, and throw all his en- 
ergies into his discourse in a cottage to a dozen hearers. 

— C. H. Spurgeon. 



HfT is not what men eat but what they digest, that 
t|] makes them strong; not what we gain, but what we 
^ save that makes us rich; not what we read, but 
what we remember that makes us learned; and not what 
we preach, but what we practice that makes us christians. 
These are great but common truths, often forgotten by 
the glutton, the spendthrift, the book-worm and the 
hypocrite. 

— Lord Bacon. 

163 



fl HRM0 shake at the mm, 

■®E are very slow to understand the power of a 
H hand shake at the door of a church, mission, 
or evangelistic service. In some churches there 
is a peculiar warmth pervading the whole place, and if 
we were to look about for the reason, we should find 
men and women at the door to welcome every one, 
both those who belonged to the church, and those who 
do not. A hand shake as they go, and a word of kind- 
ness for those who have trouble or sickness at home, a 
pressure of the hand for the strange young man as he 
comes for the first time, perhaps, into the city. A 
young man said not long since, "I go to such a 
church, went there when I first came to the city, and they 
seemed so glad to see me, that I was quite surprised. 
Two people shook hands with me as I went in, and a 
number as I came out. I felt at home right away, as 
if I had been among friends, and as I heard the ser- 
mon the pressure of the hand shake was still with me, 
and that sermon had a different impression upon me 
than it otherwise would. I believe the hand shake at 
the door was the instrument, in God's hand, of leading 
me to Christ." If we could read the testimony of those 
who have had similar experience, no doubt they would 
be along the same line. If in our church, mission, 
or evangelistic services that are being held in our 
town or city a hearty hand shake is not being given, 
let us see to it. 



164 



JtfK BUR0EN, 

If O every one on earth 

God gives a burden to be carried down 
The road that lies between the cross and 
crown, 
No lot is wholly free : 
He giveth one to thee. 

Some carry it aloft, 
Open and visible to any eyes : 
And all may see its form and weight and size ; 

Some hide it in their breast, 

And deem it thus unguessed. 

The burden is God's gift, 
And it will make the bearer calm and strong, 
Yet, lest it press too heavily and long, 

He says, "Cast it on Me, 

And it shall easy be." 

And those who heed His voice, 
And seek to give it back in trustful prayer, 
Have quiet hearts that never can despair ; 

And hope lights up the way 

Upon the darkest day. 

Take thou thy burden thus 
Into thy hands, and lay it at His feet ; 
And whether it be sorrow or defeat, 

Or pain, or sin, or care, 

Upon the darkest day. 

165 



LIVE FOR SOMETHING. 

It is the lonely load 
That crushes out the light and life of heaven, 
But born with Him, the soul restored, forgiven, 

Sings out through all the days, 

Her joy, and God's highest praise. 

— Marianne Farningham. 



OO many are living for nothing, and indeed worse 
fliff than nothing. Their lives are aimless. They 
^ aim at nothing, and hit it. They desire to simply 
have what they call a "good time," as long as they live. 
Only let them have what money they wish to spend, in 
such ways as may gratify their uncultivated tastes, with 
no serious cares on hand, no commanding responsibili- 
ties laid upon them and no exhaustive drafts upon their 
sympathies, and they seem to be contented with them- 
selves. What a travesty this is on the true idea of 
human life! How dwarfish and "dudeish" it is! On 
the other hand, how noble and ennobling is the pur- 
pose to live for something, something good, something 
which will touch and impress other lives and enrich 
them with blessings! 

The eloquent Dr. Chalmers gave voice to these 
weighty words: "Oh, man immortal, live for some- 
thing, live for something! Do good and leave behind 
you a monument of virtue that the storms of time can 
never destroy. Write your name, by kindness, love 
and mercy, on the hearts of thousands you come in con- 

166 



BROAD ROAD. 



tact with, year by year, and you will never be forgot- 
ten. No, your name, your deeds will be as legible on 
the hearts you leave behind you, as the stars on the 
brow of the morning. Good deeds will shine as bright- 
ly on the earth as the stars of heaven." How such a 
life calls out and dignifies all of the better and finer ele- 
ments of one's manhood ! A young man or a young wo- 
man cannot live for something high and helpful without 
rapidly growing beautiful in moral character. Such a 
life gives tone and splendid quality to one's acts and 
whole career, and when he dies he leaves behind him 
impressions and fruits which will live on the lives of 
others with increasing power. 

— C. H. Wetherbee. 



BROAD R0AD, 

tT is hard to be charitable toward those who do not 
believe exactly as we do. Many times we are dis- 
posed to be very much put out with those who do 
not see the world just as we see it. Whether we are 
right or wrong, our best plan will not be to denounce 
and upbraid them, but rather to spend our time and 
energy in praying that we both may be able to see all 
things as God would have us. Unquestionably that is 
easier to talk about than to practice; but God will 
give to his children that spirit of love and tenderness, 
toward all his creatures that will enable a child of God 
to be Christ-like even when he cannot agree with those: 
with whom he comes in contact. 

167 



"60 (7@RWW 

MN the spiritual life there is a great tendency to be 
ff[ content with mere beginnings. In ordinary affairs 
^ it is far otherwise. No mother would be content 
if her babe remained a mere babe; or if her child, 
though achieving straight strokes with great ability, 
and repeating the alphabet in a very skillful way, pro- 
ceeded no further in the educational acquirements. No 
enterprising man of business would be satisfied with 
having duly completed his apprenticeship and opened 
on his own account in a small way. And no one would 
tell himself he had nothing further to care for who had 
placed the engaged ring on the hand of the fair object 
of his choice. 

And yet, christians are sometimes inclined to feel 
fully satisfied now that they are really saved, and are 
professedly on the Lord's side. This done, they are 
ready to say to themselves, "I can now rest and be 
thankful!" What! A soldier resting at the very com- 
mencement of the campaign? A pilgrim resting as 
soon as his hand grasps the staff, and his feet stand in 
the King's highway? No! no! Rest? Why, he is 
just in position to march, to fight, to work for Him to 
whom he belongs! Being saved is but the merest be- 
ginning of the christian life. Now for the grand busi- 
ness of the man of God, the soldier of the cross, the 
servant of the King! There is the trumpet call! Who 
can mistake its ringing note? Advance! Advance! 



1 68 



RE6KLE8S [7RWNESS, 

HERE is a class of people who pride themselves 
on their honesty and frankness, because, as they 
tell us, they "say just what they think," throwing 
out their opinions right and left, just as they happen to 
feel, no matter where they may strike, or whom they 
may wound. This boasted frankness, however, is not 
honesty, but is rather miserable impertinence and reck- 
less cruelty. 

We have no right to say what we think unless we 
think kindly, and lovingly, no right to unload our jeal- 
ousies, envies, bad humor and miserable spites upon 
the hearts of our neighbors. 

If we must be bad tempered, we should at least keep 
our ugliness locked up in our own breasts, and not let 
it wound the feelings and mar the happiness of others. 
If we must speak out our dislikes and prejudices and 
wretched feelings, let us go into our own rooms, and 
lock the door, and close the window, so that no ear but 
our own shall hear the hateful words. 

If any man seemeth to be religious, or even morally 
decent, and bridleth not his tongue, that man's religion 
is vain and his character base. 

— Selected. 



It is not so important for one to know when Christ 
will come again as to know that he is ready for His 
coming at any moment. 

169 



S0/WE KISSES AND 8WLE8. 

HERE are beautiful songs that have never been sung — 
That never were uttered by the pen or tongue. 
^pi They are waiting in silence a magical word 

From the heart of the poet, that has not been heard. 
Sometime they will come from the echoes in store 
And thrill with their rapture a desolate shore. 

Then, hearts that have languished in sorrow and grief 
Shall spring from their ashes to happy relief. 

There are kisses untaken, like beautiful gems, 

That linger on lips like sweet fruit on the stems, 
Those lips may grow pale in the whirlwind of time 
And lose the sweet flushes of their young, sunny prime. 

They may pass from our view like the rainbow's bright gleams, 

But oft they'll return to our spirit in dreams, 
And bring their sweet kisses, untasted before, 
To thrill our sad hearts on this time-beaten shore. 

Bright smiles have been wasted ; their glory unseen, 
Have lingered awhile like the bright sunny sheen 

That falls on the mountains so hoary and old, 

To lend them a mantle of glory and gold, 
Transforming the faces of the dark gloomy sod 
Into beauty and grace, like the smile of a god. 

Those smiles that are wasted — by desert winds tossed — 

Shall gladden our souls, for they have not been lost. 




170 



mm the gross Y@i^ hjme. 

Ij/iET us be satisfied with the cross we now have to 
flbf carry. Too often we wish that we might exchange 
* our present cross for one which lies beyond our 
reach. We know not what we ask, when we ask for 
an untried cross in the place of the one which we are 
wearing. We sometimes think if we only had the 
cross which another brother seems to be easily bearing, 
we could get along better; but very likely if we had his 
cross we would want to exchange it for still another. 
Mr. Spurgeon wisely says: "It is folly to imagine, as 
we have sometimes done, that we could bear anything 
except that which we are called upon to endure. We 
are like the young man who says he wants a situation. 
What can you do ? He can do anything. That man 
you never engage, because you know he can do noth- 
ing. So it is with us. If we say, 'I can bear anything 
but this,' we prove our universal impatience. If we 
had the choice of our crosses, the one we should choose 
would turn out to be more inconvenient than that which 
God appoints for us, and yet we will have it that our 
present cross is unsuitable and specially galling. I 
would say to any of that mind, 'if your burden does not 
fit your shoulder, bear it till it does.' Time will recon- 
cile you to the yoke, if grace abides with you." Is not 
one great reason why Christians bear their cross with 
apparent ease and even satisfaction, because they do 
not chafe under it, but make the best use of the grace 

171 



AN ARAB SATIXG. 



which God gives them to carry it? The ox that is 
always fretting under his yoke is the one which has a 
sore neck and a suffering head. The Christian who is 
constantly chafing under the burden he bears, is always 
sore and sour, and is also envious of the condition of 
those whom he supposes have an easier time than he 
has. He is always wishing that his condition was dif- 
ferent from what it is. Poor unhappy man! He has a 
great deal yet to learn. He has not yet learned the 
blessed art of commanding sweet contentment in the 
ways of God. Let God choose your cross and then 
bear it with praise to him. 

— Rev. C. H. Wetherbee. 



^n mm SPYING, 

(EMEMBER, three things come not back 
The arrow sent upon its track — 
It will not swerve, it will not stay 

Its speed ; it flies to wound or slay. 

The spoken word, so soon forgot 
By thee ; yet it has perished not ; 
In other hearts 'tis living still, 
And doing work for good or ill. 

And the lost opportunity, 

That cometh back no more to thee ; 

In vain thou weepest, in vain dost yearn, 

These three will never more return. 



172 



>OUSEHOLD hygiene is by no means limited to 
sanitary dwellings and suitable diet and dress. It 

extends to what may be called the atmosphere of 
the home and includes the influence of thoughts and 
emotions upon the body. It is a physiological fact that 
a spirit of gloom or constant fault-finding in the family, 
beside depressing the spirits, actually reacts upon the 
vital forces. Morbid tendencies are strengthened and 
incipient diseases are held to develop in the homes 
which lack healthful stimulus of cheer and kindness. 
Violent emotions derange digestion. A child who is 
allowed to indulge in fits of anger receive harm in the 
physical as well as the moral nature. It is the excep- 
tion, a misanthrope, a cynic or a chronic grumbler is in 
the possession of good health. For hygienic reasons 
alone, if there were no higher motives to influence par- 
ents, it pays to flood the home with the sunshine of love 
and the joy of religion. 



«&\0 ye into the world and preach the Gospel to every 
creature," means that you are to preach Christ to 
your milk-man, your servant girl, the man with 
whom you are doing business, your errand boy, your 
dressmaker, your next door neighbor, the workman 
next you in the shop, your letter-carrier, and the chil- 
dren you meet. 

Preach "Jesus saves" to every-body. 

173 



SpM0 P@R THE RIGHT. 

|E firm, be bold, be strong, be true, 
| "And dare to stand alone ;" 

Strive for the right, what e'er you do, 
Though helpers there may be none. 

Nay — bend not to the swelling surge 
Of fashion's sneers and wrong ; 

'Twill bear thee on to ruin's verge, 
With current wild and strong. 

Stand to the right ; though falsehood rail. 

And proud lips coldly sneer ; 
A poisoned arrow cannot wound 

A conscience pure and clear. 

Stand for the right, and with clean hands 

Exalt the truth on high ; 
Thou 'It find warm, sympathizing hearts 

Among the passers by. 

Stand for the right ; proclaim it loud, 
Thou 'It find an answering tone 

In honest hearts, and then no more 
Be doomed to stand alone. 



||¥E talk about men's reaching- nature up to nature's 
God. It is nothing to the way in which they 
may reach through the manhood up to manhood's 
God and learn the divine love by the human. 

— Phillip Brooks. 



174 



WQ/»ty 18 fAffM'8 BEST FRIEND, 

glECAUSE she is his mother. 
Because she is his wife. 

Because without her he would be rude, rough 
and ungodly. 

Because she can with him endure pain quietly and 
meet joy gladly. 

Because she teaches him the value of gentle words, 
of kind thought and consideration. 

Because she is patient with him in illness, and en- 
dures his fretfulness and "mothers" him. 

Because she will stick to him through good and evil 
report, and always believe in him if she loves him. 



@UR BEST. 

E have given of our best, 

And our merry days are done,' 
Lisp the little leaves that fall 
Like rich jewels on the sun. 
"Happy birds we've hushed to sleep, 

Snowy lambs have sought our shade, 
Many weary ones have joyed 
In the shelter we have made." 

"We have kept no songs of cheer 
In our wee hearts hid away," 

Chirp the birds. "To earth and sky 
We have told our joy all day. 

175 




OUR BEST. 

Happily through the winter's gloom 
Some sweet thought of us may glad 

Eyes that watched the falling snow, 
While the winds are keen and sad." 

"We have glided, oft unseen, 

Giving all the joy we could 
To the parched and heated field, 

To the silence of the woods," 
Softly chime the tinkling bells 

Of the brooklets silver clear ; 
"We have given of our best, 

Since the Father led us there." 

Have we sung our songs of joy 

Unto some sad heart below ? 
Kept some kindly word unsaid 

In the year's quick ebb and flow ? 
Have our cooling leaves of balm 

Sheltered any weary guest ? 
Like the birds and leaves and brooks, 

Have we given of our best ? 

— George Cooper. 




GOOD HUMOR. 

MONG the rules of behavior which George Wash- 
ington drew up for himself when but fourteen 
years of age, is one concerning cheerfulness at the 
table; for, he says, "Good humor makes one dish of 
meat a feast." 

The daintiest meal can be spoiled by a frowning face. 
It is bad manners to carry ill-humor to the table, and 
it is bad economy besides; for bad humor makes bad 
digestion, and bad digestion calls for the doctor. 

Who does not like sunshine better than cloud? A 
little sunshine on a face goes a long way toward light- 
ing up a whole house. Never go to the table with a 
clouded face. The food will not be good if you do, no 
matter how carefully it has been prepared. Somebody 
will catch your cloudiness, and before you know it a 
thunder-storm may break over the table! 

Cultivate good humor, and especially resolve that 
you will "eat no meal while the world stands" if it 
must be eaten in an ill humor. 



N getting rich remember that there are two questions 
which every rich man will be called upon to answer 
at the day of judgment. The first is, "how did you 

get your money?" and the second, "what did you do 

with it?" 



^p? 



177 



(BHIlx 13^0813. 

H, holy years untouched by fears, 

Oh, Life so fair and free, 
When joy and love enwet by tears 
Crowned all the days for me ; 
I catch bright visions of the past 
Too happy and too bright too last. 

Like sunny isles where summer smiles 

Through all the happy year, 
Beyond the dusky tangled wilds 
Through which I walked in fear, 

Those early years so long and sweet, 
Are mirrored in life's ocean deep, 

And as I gaze those gone by days 

Again their sweetness cast 
Around me, as I catch the lays 
Of the long vanished past, 
And oft I fancy in my dreams 
I revel still in childhood scenes. 

Oh, blessed life beyond the strife 

Of the storm-fretted years, 
Thy music still is sweetly rife 
With hope, that to my ears 

Tells of a land where childhood stays 
And beauty crowns eternal days. 

— Mrs. M. A. Holt. 



78 




178 



CHILDHOOD. 



WHAT S^ME @f? 8MPR7NE8& 

FEW mornings since, while waiting at the station 
|||| of a large country town, I witnessed a little inci- 
dent that I think will interest some young people. 

The ticket agent had gone to breakfast, leaving the 
office in charge of a bright looking boy about fourteen- 
or fifteen. The boy was reading what must have been 
a very interesting book, judging from the reluctant way 
in which he laid it aside to wait on the passengers. 

Shortly after my arrival an old lady, oddly dressed 
and evidently not accustomed to traveling, came in; 
after depositing her bundles, and procuring her ticket, 
inquired civilly of the office boy, ''What time is the up- 
train due?" 

"There's a time table on the wall behind you," was 
the surly answer. "You can read I reckon." 

Without a word the old woman put on her glasses, 
and after a long search gained the information the boy 
might have given her in less time than it had taken to- 
give his ungracious answer. 

"7'-33 — 7 133 ? It must be most that time now," she 
soliloquized. "Young man, would you please tell me 
what time it is?" she asked timidly, glancing at the boy 
again. 

"Why don't you look at the clock?" sneered the 
smart lad. "My business is to sell tickets, not to an- 
swer questions." 

179 



WHAT CAME OF SMARTXESS. 



An old gentleman, very plainly dressed, who had 
been sitting in a corner with his hat pulled down over 
his eyes, looked up very quickly when he heard the 
boy's impolite response, but he said nothing, and after 
the lapse of a few minutes sauntered slowly across the 
room to the ticket window. 

"What is your name my boy?" he said kindly, after 
nodding intelligently to the telegrapher. 

"I do not know as it is any of your business; but if 
you have a fortune to leave, you can just name Dick 
Horton'skid Jack, and it will be O. K." 

"Your father ought to be proud of such a promising 
boy," returned the gentleman dryly. "Is Mr. Johnson 
In?" he asked a little sharply. 

"You can find out by making use of your eyes, I 
guess," said the boy, glancing around under tables and 
benches, apparently very much amused. 

Just then another boy came in with some papers for 
the agent, and his smart friend said, loud enough to 
be heard all over the waiting room, "Here, Fred! don't 
go away till Johnson comes. Attend to the tickets if 
they are wanted. I have been bored to death answer- 
ing questions, and I want to finish this book before the 
boss gets around." 

The new-comer quietly hung up his hat and went to 
wait upon some ladies who were standing at the 
window. 

A few minutes later the old gentleman asked some- 
what sharply, "What time is the train due, Bub?" 

"7:33." Was the prompt answer. 

180 



WH AT CAME OF SMARTNESS. 

4l And what time is it now?" demanded the same im- 
patient voice that had spoken before. 

"It is just fifteen minutes past seven," replyed the 
boy cheerfully. 

"Ape," sneered smart Jack. "Why don't you bluff 
him off?" 

''What is your name?" persisted the old gentleman, 
stepping up a little closer. 

"Fred Myers," responded the boy politely. 

"Is the boss in?" was the next inquiry in a much 
lower tone. 

"No, sir, he has gone to breakfast, but will be back 
in a few minutes," was the quiet answer. 

"Seeing that your master is not in, can't you give me 
cut rates to Wheeling? I'll see that you are not found 
out." 

"My Master is always in," was the boy's quick re- 
ply. 

Just then Mr. Johnson, the agent, came in, and ad- 
dressed the plain looking stranger as Mr. Hayes; and 
the boys both knew that the superintendent of the rail- 
road had been talking to them, and before they recover- 
ed from their confusion they heard him say: 

"Mr. Knok, your telegraph operator has been ap- 
pointed to take charge of an office in the city, and I 
came down to look after a suitable boy to take his place 
here. Remembering the information you gave me 
sometime ago, I had made up my mind concerning 
whom his successor should be, but after what I have wit- 
nessed this morning, I have come to the conclusion that 
Dick Horton's kid Jack is too smart for our use, and 

181 



ORDER. 



that this boy whose Master is always in can be trusted 
to take charge of the responsible position. 

Smart Jack tried to mutter an excuse for his impolite- 
ness when he realized what he had lost, but the indig- 
nant superintendent cooly informed him that his rough- 
ness toward passengers could not be tolerated, and that 
he must seek other employment until he learned to ap- 
ply the small courtesies of life. 



0RI3ER. 

tT is such a little thing to keep your room in order — 
and such a great thing! It is such a little matter 
^ for you, and such a great one for your mother. It 
is such a little test of the resolution you make Sundays, 
to live more as you know you ought this week, and it 
is such great proof of that resolution. Try it, boys 
and girls. Rise early enough to say your prayer, and 
spend five minutes, even three, in "picking up" your 
room. You have no idea what a pleasant keynote 
that will be to the whole day. 



LL that Christ, our great teacher, delivers to us, is 
ijzA truth — truth unmixed with error, truth of the 
"^ mightiest importance, truth that can make us free, 
truth that can make us holy, truth that can make us 
blessed forevermore. 



182 




' L 



THE REVENUE 8p1'M. 

fROUD bird, so noble and free, 
Perched "mid the stripes and stars," 
As ye sit with brave, outspreading wings, 
There's a stain your banner mars. 
Oh ! have ye no eyes to weep ? 

See ye not the blood of the slain ? 
The blood of America's noblest sons, 
Poured out for revenue gain ? 

Proud eagle, fold your wings 

And hang your head with shame, 
That the Christian nation ye symbolize 

Such murderous laws should frame ! 
O'er a dark and dreadful sea, 

The ensign of freedom waves, 
While the "ship of state" is bearing down 

Brave sons to dishonored graves. 

Sixty thousand a year are hurled 

Neath the terrible flood, 
While government fosters the fearful crime 

And pockets the price of blood ! 
And wives and children may wail, 

And "Rachels" may weep in vain ; 
For the "ship of state" with flaunting sail 

Must take her revenue gain ! 

Wrecked are bodies and souls of men ; 

But what are human lives, 
What are prayers and groans and sighs and tears, 

What are broken-hearted wives, 

183 



I WILL BE GOOD. 

Compared with revenue gain ? 

For the "ship of state" must sail 
Though her noblest sons sink 'neath the flood,. 

And widows and orphans wail ! 

Compassionate heavens, weep 

For the blood of the slain, 
Till righteous laws shall sweep from the land 

This most accursed stain. 
Ye rocks and stones break forth, 

Nor hold your peace, ye hills 
So long as the nation for revenue gain 

The blood of her citizens spills. 

— Nairjean Audenrieix 



i WILL BE 60OD. 

)T the age of twelve it was thought necessary to tell 
ll&l Victoria that she was nearest heir to the throne. 
*~" It was done in a very quiet way. A genealogical 
table was put into her historical book. When the Prin- 
cess opened it she read on to the end, and then remark- 
ed to her governess, ( T see I am nearer the throne than 
I thought." 

"So it is, madame," replied her teacher. 

After some silent moments, Victoria very gravely 
said: "How many a child would boast, but they don't 
know the difficulty. There is much splendor, but there 
is more responsibility. ,, 

She then gave her hand to her governess,, saying,, 
'T will be good — I will be good." 

184 



HEROISM M HOME. 

tOW useless our lives seem to us sometimes! How 
we long fcr an opportunity to perform some great 
action! We become tired of the routine of home 
life, and imagine we would he far happier in other 
scenes. We forget that the world bestows no such ti- 
tles as noble as father, mother, sister, or brother. In 
the sacred precincts of home we have many chances 
of heroism. The daily acts of self-denial for the good 
of a loved one, the gentle word of soothing for another's 
trouble, care for the sick, may all seem as nothing; yet 
who can tell the good they can accomplish! Our slight- 
est wcrd may have an influence over another for good 
or evil. We are daily sowing the seed which will bring 
forth some sort of harvest. Well it be for us if the 
harvest will be one we will be proud to garner. If 
some one in that dear home can look back in after years,, 
and as he tenderly utters our name, says: ''Her words 
and example prepared me for a life of usefulness, to her 
I owe my present happiness," we may well say, "I have- 
not lived in vain." 



Wftf^frHERE do you stand?" is often asked concerning 
t W£^|f the opinions and lives of men. Oliver Wendell 
.^^F^ Holmes has said, "I find the great thing in this 
world is, not so much where we stand, as in what di- 
rection we are moving." A man might be standing on 
a ship that is drifting to destruction. 

185 



THE WRY T@ REFORM IS 70 RE[?0RM. 

BAD habit is overcome by stifling it at once, not 

| by gradually breaking away from it. Compromise 
is not complete reform; and then, too, where the 
change is not immediate, carelessness is likely to lead 
to laxity, and, finally, to an abandonment of the effort 
to reform. Lord Baconsheld said, "The way to suc- 
ceed is to succeed," and the surest way to reform is to 
reform. 

An interesting anecdote is told of the late James 
Harper, one of the founders of the great publishing 
house of Harper and Brothers. When he was a young 
publisher in Cliff Street, he tried hard to dissuade one 
of his neighbors from drinking. One day when he had 
talked earnestly on the subject, his friend turned upon 
him thus: 

"Neighbor Harper you don't like the taste of liquor, 
but you are as much a slave to tobacco as I am to rum, 
and you couldn't break off that habit any more than I 
could break off from drinking." 

To this retort Mr. Harper made no reply for a time, 
but it sunk deep into his mind. He thought it over all 
day, and finally made up his mind that no habit of his 
should be a snare to another. Before he slept that 
night he put his tobacco, his pipe and all the apparatus 
of smoking out of sight on the top shelf of his kitchen. 
To the day of his death he never used tobacco again. 

It cost him a severe effort to keep his resolution, but 
he made it cheerfully, and did not mention the matter 
until the victory was complete. 

186 



EVERY BHY £ MTTIiE. 

fiVERY day a little knowledge. One fact in a day. 
I How small is one fact! Ten years pass by. Three 
^ thousand six hundred and fifty facts are not a 
small thing. 

Every day a little self-denial. A thing that is diffi- 
cult to-day will be an easy thing to do three hundred 
and sixty days hence, if each day it shall have been re- 
peated. What power of self-mastery shall he enjoy 
who, looking to God for grace, seeks every day to 
practice the grace he prays for. 

Every day a little helpfulness. We live for the good 
of others, if our living is in any sense true living. It 
is not great deeds of kindness only in which the bless- 
ing is found. In little deeds of "kindness," repeated 
every day, we find true happiness. At home, at 
school, in the street, in the neighbor's house, on the 
playground, we shall find opportunity every day for 
usefulness. 

Every day a little look into the Bible. One chapter 
a day. What a treasure of Bible knowledge one may 
acquire in ten years! Every day a verse committed to 
memory. What a volume in twenty-five years! 



JP|IND words and pleasant smiles, are precious jewels 
|M that do not lose in value by giving others a view 
~*^ of them. Indeed, like precious stones, they be- 
come valuable only from the enjoyment they afford. 

187 



NOT fffcW 

fEVER mind where you work, care more how you 
work; never mind who sees, if God approves. 
If He smiles, be content. We cannot always be 
sure when we are most useful. It is not the acreage 
you sow, it is the multiplication which God gives the 
seed which makes up the harvest. You have less to 
do with being successful than with being faithful. 
Your main comfort is that in your labor you are not 
alone. For God, the eternal One, who guides the 
marches of the stars, is with you. 

— Rev. C. H. Spurgeon. 



KEEP H7 ij t 

MN any business, art or undertaking, very little is ac- 
complished without time and perseverance. It is 
^ not the man who rushes enthusiastically into any- 
thing for a few weeks, and easily gives up when he 
finds success is not immediately forthcoming, that makes 
his mark in the world; but it is the man, who, day after 
day, month after month steadily plods along confident- 
ly believing he will succeed, who does finally accomplish 
his end. 

So it is in christian life. The man who becoming 
converted looks for an easy task before him in accom- 
plishing the complete overthrow of his passions and 



MAKING SUNSHINE. 

perverted inclinations, and becomes discouraged be- 
cause he finds it so hard a task, has overlooked the* 
fact that, though the blood of Christ will wash away alL 
sin, each one must "work out his own salvation withi 
fear and trembling." 

Very little can be accomplished on the spur of the; 
moment. A man must begin at the bottom and work 
up. This is the rule of business life, and the rude of 
christian life. Accepting this fact and trusting God for 
final success, no man will fall short of his desire, if he 
only keeps at it. 

— W. ML. SL 



MW1NG SUNSHINE. 

^ipE can all brighten the world a little for others, if 
If we will. Even a kind word will often scatter 
the clouds that enshroud some weary despond- 
ent heart. On the- other hand, a petulant reply or a 
cruel criticism may deepen the darkness and drive the 
despondent one to despair. It is a solemn thing to live in 
a world where there is so much sorrow, and where Satan 
is tempting the unfortunate to "curse God and die." 
You and I, dear reader, may not be able to do much to 
help save the multitudes that are walking in darkness, 
but we are responsible for what we can do, small as it 
may seem. The thoughtful little girl who placed a. 
candle in the window saved a ship from being wrecked. 
We can keep a tiny love-light burning wherever we go, 
and no one can tell how wide reaching and how blessed 
its influence may be. 




QMS ARM IS kM 

NSWER me this question," says Dr. Guthrie; ''Is 
it not as easy for the sea to carry the bulkiest ship 
"^ as the sea-weecl or foam it flings on the shore?" 
Is it not as easy for the affluent sun to battle a mount- 
ain as a mole-hill in the right? Is it not as easy for 
this vast earth to carry on its back an Alps as a grain 
of sand? Just so, believer, it is as easy for God to 
supply the greatest as the smallest needs, even as it 
was within His power to form a system as an atom — to 
create a blazing sun as to kindle a fire-fly's lamp. 



1P WE KNEW. 

f[OULD we but draw back the curtains 
That surround each others lives, 
, 1V . I See the naked heart and spirit 

Know what spur the action gives, 
Often we would find it better, 

Purer than we judge we should ; 
We should love each other better 
If we only understood. 

Could we judge all deeds by motives, 

See the good and bad within, 
Often we should love the sinner 

All the while we loath the sin. 
Could we know the powers working 

To o 'erthrow integrity, 
We should judge each other's errors 

With more patient charity. 

190 



LET US HELP OURSELVES. 

If we knew the cares and trials, 

Knew the effort all in vain, 
And the bitter disappointment, 

Understood the loss and gain — 
Would the grim external roughness 

Seem, I wonder, just the same ? 
Should we help where now we hinder? 

Should we pity where we blame ? 

Ah ! we judge each other harshly, 

Knowing not life's hidden force ; 
Knowing not the fount of action 

Is less turbid at its source. 
Seeking not amid the evil 

All the golden grains of good ; 
Oh ! we'd love each other better 

If we only understood. 



LET US HELP 0UR8ELVE8. 

||"T has been the rule of my life," said a successful and 
|J illustrious man, ( 'never to ask anyone to do anything 
^ for me which I could do myself." 

The spirit of mutual helpfulness is lovely and com- 
mendable, it is true. It bespeaks not only unselfish- 
ness, but generosity. But the continual expectancy of 
help, or the belief that certain obligations are due you 
from some person or member of your family, or from 
the world at large, is selfish and fosters weakness. 

We have often wondered why it is Tom's duty to 
wait on Mary, and why Mary is expected to clean up 
Tom's litter, hang up his coat and hunt his hat. But 
children consider themselves martyrs. Would it not 
be much pleasanter for each to do his or her own work? 

191 



LET US HELP OURSELVES. 

It would have the effect in after years, of making Tom 
zl more orderly man, and a better husband — should he 
.become one — and of making Mary a stronger woman. 

We have often wondered why mother's memory and 
liands must serve for a dozen persons. Would it not 
ibe better for all concerned if mother's kindness contain- 
ed more of self-assertion and less of self-sacrifice? 
Would not, at times, papa feel less disturbed, nay, 
•wrathful, if he were careful to keep his own papers in 
order, and perform the twenty other trivial things he 
has time to do in leisure moments, but expects of some 
one else? Would it not be better for sister to teach 
baby, who is old enough to button his own shoes, than 
to do it for him each morning as a duty? 

The teacher who takes the pencil from a child's hand, 
to work out a problem for him, does that child a grave 
injustice. The teacher should instruct, but the child 
^should do the work. We know and remember how to 
.do a thing only by doing it. We become strong only 
by self-assertion and self-dependence. 

Trust self; depend upon self above all else. Within 
that self is all you desire to be, and it can only be evolv- 
«ed and made manifest by your effort. Help given you 
from outside forces is but momentary, but to have in- 
sisted on self for the execution of any task is to have 
gained strength and power which will be a future help 
for the accomplishment of greater things. Be sympa- 
thetic and responsive; be generous and just, but issue 
for yourself a declaration of independence, and stand 
by it as faithfully as did the patriots of old. And in- 
sist on those about you doing likewise. This is right. 



192 




H WIFE'S S0fF7 ANSWER. 

|jf|| E were married thirty-seven years," said Mr. 
Gardiner Andrews, "and in all that time my 
wife never gave me a cross word. But I shall 
never forget the time I chided her. It was on a Sun- 
day morning, when we had been married about two 
years. I found a button off my shirt, and threw it 
across the room. 

'Sew on a button,' I said, in a brutal voice. She 
was a good christian woman, and was preparing for 
church; but she got a button and sewed it on." 

"And what did she say?" asked a little bristling wo- 
man, with snapping eyes. 

"She said, 'Forgive me, husband, I had a great 
deal to do yesterday and forgot it, but it shall not hap- 
pen again.' " 

"Oh," said the man fixing his eyes on the picture of 
his dear wife, ' 'her gentle words almost broke my 
heart. I could have gone down on my knees to ask 
her forgiveness. She made a different man of me, and 
the world has been a different place since she died." 

There was silence as he finished speaking, interrupt- 
ed by a general clearing of throats, and a confused 
snuffling, as if we all had bad colds, and the little wo- 
man's snapping eyes looked suspiciously dim. 



193 



\±mm. 

|AUSE not to dream of the future before us ; 

Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us 
—at Hark, how creation's deep, musical chorus, 
Unintermitting, goes up to heaven ! 
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing ; 
Never the little seed stops in its. growing ; 
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, 
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. 

" Labor is worship ! " the robin is singing ; 
" Labor is worship ! " the wild bee is ringing ; 
Listen ! that eloquent whisper, upspringing, 

Speaks to my soul from out Nature's great heart. 
From the dark cloud flows the soft-breathing flower, 
From the small insect the rich coral bower ; 

Only man, in his pain, ever shrinks from his part. 

" Labor is life ! " — Tis the still water faileth ; 
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; 
'Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ! 

Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. 
Labor is glory ! — The flying cloud lightens ; 
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; 
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens, 

Play the sweet keys would 'st thou keep them in tune. 

Labor is rest, from the sorrows that greet us ; 
Rest from the petty vexations that meet us ; 
Rest from the sin-promptings that ever entreat us ; 
Rest from the world-sirens that lure us to ill. 

194 



HAVE PATIENCE. 

Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow ; 
Work — thou shalt ride over Care's coming- billow ; 
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow ; 
Work with stout heart and resolute will. 

Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish are round thee 
Bravely fling off the cold chain that has bound thee ; 
Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee ; 

Rest not content in thy darkness — a clod ; 
Work for some good, be it ever so slow ; 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly ; 
Labor ! — all labor is noble and holy ; 

Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. 



HAVE PfCflENGE. 

jH, the drudgery of this everyday routine!" cries 
many a business man, and many a house-keeping 
woman. "To get through the day, and to have 
the same round to traverse to-morrow!" Yes, but how 
do you know what use the gracious Superintendent of 
your life is making of this humdrum, as you call it? 
A poor, blind mill-horse treads his beat, hour after hour, 
and it all seems to come to nothing. But the shaft he 
is turning, is geared into others, and they into wheels, 
that in other rooms, above him, far away beyond his 
hearing, are working out the results that he could never 
comprehend. Wait until you see no longer through a 
glass darkly, and see the unknown bearings and con- 
nections of your life-work with other generations, and 
may be with other worlds. 



195 



IN T^ B#V 0PTR0UBLE, 



CT'HE day of trouble is very sure to come. "In my 

W prosperity," says the Psalmist, "I said, I shall 
never be moved;" but how short-lived was that 
prosperity; how vain was that confidence. The day of 
trouble comes — sickness, affliction, sorrow, disgrace — 
all these come, and often they overtake us at times 
when we have no comforter, and when lover and friend 
•are far from us. Those who have eaten our bread turn 
away, and look coldly upon us. Those whom we have 
befriended in hours of need forget the hand that helped 
them, and we think that all things are against us. 

What then shall we do? "Call upon me in the day 
of trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glo- 
rify me." How many have proved the truthfulness of 
this promise. How many a cry has gone up in hours 
of anguish and distress, and in how many ways God 
rias sent deliverance to his chosen people! 

Let us learn that in the day of trouble we have a sure 
refuge. "God is our refuge and strength, a present 
"help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear though the 
earth be removed, and though the mountains be car- 
ried into the midst of the sea: though the waters there- 
of roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake 
with the swelling thereof." Above the storm and tu- 
mult, above the world's wild rush and raee, the Lord 
sitteth King forever, as the helper and trust of His 
people, the confidence of all who cast their cares and 
burdens on Him. 



-JUST OXE IHIXG. 



Let the day of trouble find us at the mercy-seat: let 
us not wait till the day of trouble comes to learn the 
way to that sacred refuge. They find most help in 
time of trouble who seek the Lord before the day of 
trouble comes, "Remember thy creator in the days of 
thy youth, before the evil days come, when thou 
shalt say I have no pleasure in them." "Let us there- 
fore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may 
find grace to help in time of need." 



•JUST ONE THING, 

l HERE is nothing like enthusiasm.'' 
Enthusiasm is a great thing-: it has led manv men 
**" to do wondrous deeds of valor, but there is one 
thing even greater. 

The cold determination to tight on, because you are 
right, no matter how dark the surroundings. 

There is plenty of enthusiasm in the charge of the 
light brigade, but the cold, hard courage of the men 
who fought and suffered and died in the trenches in 
front of Sebastopoi all through that weary winter was 
something even grander. 

It is a great thing to rush on with a crowd to victor}', 
when victory is within reach. 

It is a greater and grander thing to stand fast when 
the crowd has left you and victory seems afar off. 

It is grand to be brave in battle: it is grander to be 
brave when there is nought we can do but to wait. 

197 



GOD'S WILL IS BEST. 



The highest charge Paul could give to the christian 
soldier was, "And having done all to stand." 

Fellow comrades in this fight, remember that there 
are more who will throw up their hats and shout in 
charge than there are who will stand in the trench the 
season through. 

Give us more soldiers who are willing to keep patient- 
ly, earnestly, faithfully at the work all the year round. 



G0I3S W|lili 13 BEST, 

4ET nothing make thee sad or fretful, 

Or too regretful — 

Be still ; 

What God hath ordered must be right, 
Then find in it thine own delight, 
My will. 

Why shouldst thou fill to-day with sorrow 
About to-morrow, 

My heart ? 
One watches all with care most true, 
Doubt not that He will give thee, too, 

Thy part. 

Only be steadfast, never waver, 
Nor seek earth's favor, 
But rest ; 
Thou knowest what God wills must be 
For all His creatures, so for thee, 

The best. 

— Paul Flemming. 



i 9 8 



Wt^EN A WISE WOMAN SMIliES, 

SHAT is a wise woman who can smile at a compli- 
MW ment, be pleased and forget it. 

That is a wise woman who can smile at an insult 
and never see it. 

That is a wise woman who can smile when the little 
worries are coming about and make of them little bits 
of fun. 

That is a wise woman who can smile when she gets 
up, and who can go to sleep with a smile, for in this 
way she greets the coming day, and at the end of it 
she has blotted out the disagreeables. 

That is a wise woman who can smile for her friends 
and her enemies; it will keep the first, and it is the best 
weapon against the last. 

That is a wise woman who can smile no matter how 
she feels. She is a woman who has learned to rule 
not only herself, but will gain domain over the cook; 
and that means that she governs comfort. 



WEALTHY man displaying one day his jewels to 
| a philosopher, the latter said, "Thank you sir, for 
being willing to share such magnificent jewels 
with me." 

"Share them with you, sir!" exclaimed the man. 
"What do you mean?" 

"Why you allow me to look at them, and what more 
can you do with them yourself ?" replied the philosopher. 

199 



/V\E/W0R|RL DAY. 




E garland their graves with flowers, 
We mingle our tears once more, 
For those who have gone before us, 
For those we shall see no more. 



They fell in the heat of the battle. 

They dropped in the morning ray, 
They passed in glow of childhood / 

And we could not bid them nay. 



They fell when the year were all garnered 

Allotted to man here below, 
We followed them down to the crossing 

And felt it was well they should go. 

We sigh, O we sigh for their presence, 
When sorrow like mountain waves roll, 

When night, sable night settles o'er us, 
And there is no light for the soul. 

O, sweet is their rest from all sorrow I 
O, sweet is their rest from all care ! 
In their beautiful home with the angels, 
Would God, O, would God we 
were there ! 

— Isaac R. Embree. 




200 



GO0IZ) MANNERS. 



YESTERDAY I met one of my little friends on the 

street. I never forget to speak to my boys .and 

^ girls, so I said, "Good morning." How do yen 

think he replied? He looked up into my face and said, 

"Hallo!" 

A little further on I met another little friend. I thought 
I would wait this time and see what he had to say. 
Just as he was near me, and I was expecting he would 
speak, he put his fingers between his teeth and whistled 
to a boy across the street, so sharp and shrill that it al- 
most deafened me. That was all he said. Near the 
post-office I met a little boy, that we all know. He lift- 
ed his hat and said "Good morning, Mr. Johnson." 

Now, which do you think was the best way — to 
"hallo," the rude whistle, or the lifted hat and cheery 
"good morning?" Which boy had the best manners? 4 

Even girls do not all have good manners. The other 
day I saw two young ladies passing on opposite sides 
of the street. They were sixteen or seventeen years 
old. One called out, "Hallo, Mary!" The other re- 
plied, "Hallo, Sally!" 

Now, I want to whisper to you that I do not expect 
that young ladies who are so rude as these two will 
ever improve much in their manners; but I do expect 
that all of you will cultivate good manners toward every 

201 



I>ON'T LOOK BACK. 



one. You all know what good manners are. Be re- 
spectful to your parents and to all who are older than 
you. Be kind to your companions. Have too much 
respect for yourself to do a mean act or say a bad word. 
Treat your teacher in the public school and Sunday- 
school with the honor that is due to her. 

Be quiet and attentive at church, and set an example 
to some young men and women, whom we all know, 
who never behave themselves anywhere. 



00N7 h@m BHGft 

'HE only way to succeed in a religious or any oth- 
er kind of life, is to decide to do it. To map out 
e ^" a course that you intend to follow, and then stick 
to it, no matter how many obstacles may block the 
way. The man who says in his heart, "I will try it a 
little way, and if I like it I will go on," will never go to 
heaven. The devil will switch him off the line before 
he gets fairly started. It is like starting a steamboat 
up stream, with no coal on board except that under the 
boilers. As soon as the fire goes out the boat will 
stop and float back. The only way to make sure of 
the shining streets of glory is to say good-bye to the 
world forever when you start. The main reason why 
there are so many back-sliders in the church is because 
they never intended to make more than a short walk 
toward heaven to begin with. The only way to serve 
God is to cut the bridge behind you when you begin. 



202 



THE RIGHT MH.R 

|f HAVE lost the road to happiness, 
ffl Does any one know it, pray ? 
^ I was dwelling 1 there when the morn was fair, 
But somehow I wandered away. 

"I saw rare treasures in scenes of pleasures, 

I ran to pursue them, when lo ! 
I had lost the path to happiness, 

And knew not whither to go. 

"I have lost the way to happiness, 

Oh, who will lead me back ? " 
"Turn off from the highway of selfishness 

To the right, up duty's track. 

"Keep straight along, and you can't go wrong ; 

For as sure as you live, I say, 
The fair lost fields of happiness 

Can only be found that way." 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



CERTAIN amount of opposition is a great help 

|K| to man. Kites rise against and not with the wind. 

^~ ' Even a head wind is better than none. No man 

ever worked his passage in a dead calm. Let no man 

wax pale, therefore, because of opposition. 

— John Neal. 



203 



PREVENTIVE ORGIES. 

ftOD'S gifts to us often excite our gratitude and thank- 
ful praise, but how seldom do we remember to 
thank Him for the preventive mercies of our life. 
How often we have to bless God for hindering us in 
our plans, putting obstacles in our way, and preventing 
our self-will from triumphing, we can only judge by the 
escapes we make, and even then we do not begin to 
know it all. 

We know the accidents that actually occur, but how 
many unsuspected ones have been warded off? What 
perils have been on our right and left, and only restrain- 
ed by God's omnipotent hand! When a thousand fall 
at our side, and ten thousand at our right hand, and it 
does not come nigh us, then we understand God's pre- 
ventive care, and praise Him for it. But is it not even 
more wondeful when we are kept from the very sight 
and sound of danger? Physiologists tell us that every 
day we have many narrow escapes from death. We do 
not know how often death may have passed by us so 
closely that it scarcely left room for a breath between 
it and ourselves; we only know the events that do take 
place, the accidents that did happen, the sudden death 
that did occur. The accidents that we were spared, the 
perils that were commanded to stand aside, who shall 
estimate of God's preventive mercies? 

We remember the story of a minister who came, 
pale and trembling, into an assembly of his brethren to 

204 



NEW EVERY MORNING. 



ask them to join with him in grateful prayer for the 
marvelous escape from death which had been vouch- 
safed him. On the edge of a precipice his horse had 
stumbled, but had recovered his footing in time to save 
his rider from being dashed to pieces at the foot of the 
cliff. Another minister arose, saying that he had just 
had a still grecter manifestation of God's mercy; in com- 
ing over the same place his horse had not even stumbled. 
If we but remember, when we enumerate our blessings, 
that God's preventive mercies towards us are more in 
number than the sands of the seashore, our hearts will 
overflow with constant thanksgiving for the love which 
ever broods over us, unseen, and too often unrecogniz- 
ed, protecting us from evil. 

— M. E. Kenney. 



NEW EVERY MBRN^Q. 

[fiVERY day is a fresh beginning, 

ill Every morn is the world made new ; 

^f^ Ye who are weary of sorrow and sinning, 

Here is a beautiful hope for you ; 

A hope for me and a hope for you. 

All the past things are past and over, 

The tasks are done and the tears are shed ; 

Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover ; 

Yesterday's wounds which smarted and bled 

Are healed with the healing which night has shed. 

Yesterday now is a part of forever, 

Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight, 

205 



NEW EVERY MORNING. 

With glad days, and sad days, and bad days which 

never 
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their 

blight, 
Their fulness of sunshine or sorrowful night. 

Let them go, since we cannot re-live them, 

Cannot undo, and cannot atone ; 
God in his mercy receive, forgive them ; 

Only the new days are our own ; 

To-day is ours, and to-day alone. 

Here are the skies all burnished brightly, 
Here is' the spent earth, all re-born, 

Here are the tired limbs, springing lightly 
To face the sun and to share with the morn, 
In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn. 

Every day is a fresh beginning ; 
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain, 

And spite of old sorrow and older sinning, 
And puzzles forecasted, and possible pain, 
Take heart with the day and begin again. 

— Susan Coolidge. 




r gentle mm. 

|1||ERHAPS our voice is not always as pleasant as it 
If ought to be, but we realize it the moment we hear 

^ one that is soft and low and even modulated, and 
instinctively we alter ours to correspond with it. Noth- 
ing so quickly checks rising anger, or quick retort, as 
a gentle voice. Well has the wise man said: "A soft 
answer turneth away wrath; but grievous words stir up. 
anger." 

Few of us can remember our mothers, now, perhaps, 
passed away, as having had other than pleasant voices. 
Harsh words were strangers to those lips. The children, 
when they had done wrong, were corrected, but the 
voice that chided their misdoings was a gentle one. Let 
our children have like remembrances of us. Children 
are quick to imitate. If the mother or father speaks 
crossly, or, in a loud, commanding tone, the child soon 
learns to speak so also, and among his younger com- 
panions he will assume the tone that he has heard from 
older lips. 

Although a pleasant voice is not given to every-body, 
culture can accomplish wonders in this as every thing 
else. Let anyone strive to acquire a pleasant voice, per- 
severing time after time, when in a moment of forgetf ill- 
ness the old harsh notes escape the lips, and after a 
time the voice will become changed to one at least soft 
and well modulated, if not musical. 



207 



HOW 70 GROW BERUT^UL. 

WOMAN, famous as one of the most kindly and 
most lovable among leaders of the best American 
society, once said: "If I have accomplished any- 
thing in life, it is due to a word spoken to me in the 
right season, when I was a child, by my old teacher. 
I was the only homely, awkward girl in a class of ex- 
ceptionly pretty ones, and being also dull in my books, 
became the butt of the school. I fell into a morose, 
despairing state, gave up study, withdrew into myself, 
and grew daily more bitter and vindictive. 

"One day the French teacher, a gray-haired old wo- 
man, with keen eyes and a kind smile, found me crying. 

" 'What ails you, my child? 5 she asked. 

" 'Oh, Madame, I am so ugly! ' I sobbed out. 

"She soothed me, but did not contradict me. 

"Presently she took me to her room, and after amus- 
ing me for some time said: 'I have a present for you,' 
handing a scaly coarse lump, covered with earth. 'It 
is rough and brown as you, "ugly," did you say? Very 
well! We will call it by your name, then. It is you! 
Now you shall plant it, and water it, and give it sun 
for a week or two. 

"I planted it and watered it carefully ;the green leaves 
came out first, and at last the golden Japanese lily, the 
first I had ever seen. Madame came to share my de- 
light. 

" 'Ah,' she said, significantly, 'who would believe so 
much beauty and fragrance were shut up in that little, 

208 



FAITH'S REST. 

rough, ugly thing? But it took heart and came into 
the sun.' 

"It was the first time it ever occurred to me that, in 
spite of my ugly face, I, too, might be able to win 
friends, and make myself beloved in the world." 



WH"S REST. 

CHRISTIAN lady in one of the religious papers 
Jfffit gi yes the following receipt for rest. ' 'There is noth- 
ing will give a chance for rest to ever-tired nerves 
so surely as a simple religious faith in the overruling, 
wise and tender providence which has us in its keeping. 
It is in chafing against the conditions of our lives that 
we tire ourselves immeasurably. It is in being anxious 
about things which we cannot help that we often do the 
most of our speeding. A simple faith in God which 
practically and every moment, and not only theoretic- 
ally and on Sundays, rests on the knowledge that He 
cares for us at least as much as we care for those who 
are the dearest to us, will do much to give the tired 
nerves the feeling of a bird in its nest. Do not spend 
what strength you have, like clematis, in climbing your- 
self, but lay hold on things that are eternal, and the 
peace of them will pass into your soul like a piece of 
healing balm. Put yourself in the great everlasting 
currents, and then you can rest on your oars, and let 
those currents bear you on their strength." 

There is nothing in this world so beautiful and so 
blessed as the repose of faith. 

209 



fl GURB8T0NE 8GEME. 

tN the shade of a tree, by the street of a city, 
Lay a tired little boy, with a turf for his bed, 
^ In rags, but no beggar appealing to pity, — 

A child of the lowly who toiled for his bread. 
Beside him stood a handcart loaded with fuel, 

Bits of board he had gleaned in the lanes where he crept, 
Till the wheels o'er the pavement dragged heavy and cruel, 
And, spent with the strain of his burden, he slept. 

Will any one care as the many pass nigh him ? — 

A threadbare wood-sawyer, bent, wrinkled and old 
Caught sight of the sleeper, came near and stood by him, 

And read in the picture the story it told. 
Hungry face, scanty raiment with barely a button, 

Hatless head, naked feet, fretted sore on the stone, — 
He fished out a morse) of dry bread and mutton, 

And left him the dinner he'd brought for his own. 

There were eyes bright and merry, eyes tearful and tender, 

On the watch ere the old man had tiptoed away, 
And some, in that meek loan of love and its lender, 

Saw the angel that stopped where the little boy lay, 
And the soul of that child, through the tatters that wound 
him, 

Drew the soul of the clad and the fed to his side ; 
Young and old brought their blessing to scatter around him, 

And crumbs from the table of God to divide. 

A boy and a man dropped a dime and a dollar, 
Women opened their purses by ones and by twos, 

Willing hands from the mansions, both greater and smaller, 
Brought a hat, a jacket and a stout pair of shoes. 

210 



A CURBSTONE SCEXE. 

All stealthy and silent, with gentle conniving, 

They laid down their gifts with the wood-sawyer's crust, 

And lingered to see at the sleeper's reviving, 

His bashful thanksgiving smile up from the dust. 

Soon the little boy woke. Was it bounty or plunder 

Spread out at his feet ? Then a laugh in his ears 
Turned his face where a glance gave the key to the wonder, 

And he clasped his new riches with blushes and tears. 
And his helpers had joy which was tender and holy 

When they looked then and after, full many a day, 
Down the street where the toil-ridden child of the lowly 

With his cart and his treasures had trotted away. 

Oh, hearts that are human, are human forever ! 

You may close them in caste, but they beat through the 
wall. 
Wealth and want own a kinship no breeding can sever, 

And in sorrow the lowest are brothers of all. 
Bound love needs the magic of pity to free it ; 
Men only are selfish because they are blind ; 
When the poor help the poor, if the whole world could 
see it, 
The haughty would blush and the cruel grow kind. 

— Theron Brown. 



H 8ERM0NE7TE ON ETIQUETTE. 

|f F you have company of your very own? Ah, then no 
|^ no pains should be spared to give pleasure. 

It is never proper, in her own house, for a girl to 
wear a dress so fine that any one bidden might feel her 
own clothes shabby or too plain. Neither is it well- 
bred to have or do anything simply for show. 

To honor one's friends, the table should be set with 
the daintiest china and the brightest silver and glass. 
But if one has only plain crockery and pewter spoons, 
then the whiteness of the tablecloth, and the freshness 
of the napkins, and especially the cordial welcome, are 
all that is necessary. 

Never apologize for anything on the table. If the 
bread is not quite as light as usual, or if the cake, alas! 
has a "heavy streak, " do not call attention to it. It 
will make a bad matter no better, and apologies always 
put visitors in an awkward position. 

Do not urge your guests to eat. It is proper for a 
friend to ask for any dish on the table. If so be he or 
she is shy, it may be allowable to say, "But are you 
sure I may not give you a bit of the turkey or a slice 
of the ham?" 

If again your guest says, "No," do not insist. 

If games be the evening's amusement, a hostess 
should be sure that every one is drawn into the fun. 

If a visitor stands alone, quickly, before there is a 
chance for him to feel awkward, go yourself to talk with 

212 



LEARNING A BUSINESS. 



him, or ask some one else to do so. That anybody 
should find himself ill at ease in your home reflects dis- 
credit on you. 

There is no wider field for unselfish tact than in ones 
own parlor, and the motto of every hostess should be: 
"Not to be ministered unto, but to minister." 

— Mary S. McCobb. 



LEARNING H BUSINESS. 

GENTLEMAN who had induced a large publish- 
ing-house to take his son in employ at a moderate 
rate of pay, not long since, was especially anxious 
in his request that the young man should be put to work 
and learn the business. 

This instruction was needless, as although modern 
fashion has done away with much of the janitor and 
porterage of old times, yet the young man found the 
selection of stock for orders, packing the same, enter- 
ing, charging ditto and occasional errands kept him ac- 
tively employed for about ten hours a day, with an 
hour out for dinner. 

At the end of three week's time he failed to put in 
an appearance, but the father walked in one morning 
with the information that John would not return to the 
position. 

"Why not?" asked the publisher. 

"Well, John has to have his breakfast early every 
morning to get here, and then he is not used to carry- 
ing bundles, and sometimes he's been sent with books 

213 



LEARISG A BUSINESS. 



right up to the houses of the people we know socially. 
My son hasn't been brought up that way, and I guess 
I won't have him learn this business." 

He did not, and what's more, has never learned any 
■other business. 

Now let us look at another picture, that of a son of 
-a wealthy mill owner desiring to become a manager of 
the mill. 

"But that is impossible," said the father, "unless you 
practically learn the business." 

"That is what I would like to do," said the son. 

"But to become a superintendent or manager we 
prefer a man who has risen from the ranks and under- 
stands the mechanical department and ways of employ- 
es. 

"Let me begin ' in the ranks' then," replied the 
young man. 

To this the father assented, stipulating that no favor 
•should be shown the son, but he should actually begin 
the work at regular labor in the mechanical department. 

Not only was this done, but the young man went and 
boarded in the manufacturing town at a workman's 
boarding-house, and went in and out of the factory at 
bell call. In three years he was foreman of one of the 
departments, and a former classmate and well-known 
society man, calling there upon him, was surprised at 
meeting a stalwart fellow in blue overalls, with hands 
so soiled with machinery oil as to prevent the conven- 
tional hand-shake. 

But this young man persevered, made and paid his 
own way himself, and his father concluded it would not 

214 



THE WORD SHE RE3IEMBERED. 



injure his future prospects. Judging- from the fact that 
he is now manager of mills (not his father's), at a salary 
of ten thousand a year, with ability to command even 
better compensation and partnership, is evidence that 
"learning a business," even by a man of good educa- 
tion and a rich father, pays a good return, both in mon- 
ey and manly independence. 



THE WORD SHE REMEMBERED. 

?OU remember the sermon you heard, my dear?" 
The little one blushed, and dropped her eyes,. 
^j^ Then lifting them bravely, with look of cheer, 
Eyes that were blue as the morning skies. 

" I'm afraid I forgot what the minister said,. 

He said so much to the grown up men, 
And the pulpit was 'way over my head ; 

But I told mamma that he said 'Amen.' 

"And 'Amen,' you know means 'Let it be,' 
Whatever our Lord may please to do ; 

And that is sermon enough for me, 

If I mind and feel so the whole week through." 

I took the little one's word to heart ; 

I wish I could carry it ail day long, 
The "Amen" spirit which hides the art 

To meet each cross with a happy song. 

— M. E. Sangster, 



215 



strength IN Weakness. 

"He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have 
no might he increaseth strength." 

MT is no dream Great Comforter, 
M But very truth to me, 
*§r That all earth's strengthless, fainting ones 
May be made strong in Thee. 

The years have taught me many things, 

But none so sure as this ; 
That shelter, solace, joy, and strength, 

Are always where God is. 

So now, when hope and courage fail, 

And only fear is strong, 
My heart will sing, as in the past, 

An unforgotten song. 

" God is my refuge and my strength, 

I will not be afraid ; " 
And though the night be wild and dark, 

I '11 meet it undismayed. 

— Mariana Farningham. 



^EATH is very uncertain as to the time of its com- 
ing, therefore the injunction is to watch. "There- 
fore be ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye 
think not, the Son of man cometh." "But as the days 
of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the Son of 
man be." "Watch, therefore." 

216 



W i Were a girl 

M would take care of my health, by living out-doors 
f| as much as possible, and taking long walks in the 
^ sun-shine. English girls understand how necessary 
this is for good complexions and cheerful spirits. Wear 
simple clothing, that you may climb mountains and 
breathe freely. 

I would secure the best education. Go to college, 
by all means, if it is possible. A woman, in these days, 
if she would be attractive as well as useful, must be in- 
telligent. Educated men need educated wives. Chil- 
dren need educated mothers. Women themselves need 
a broad education, lest their thoughts become centered 
in clothes or in the small round of society gossip which 
belittles. Read books and thereby become intelligent. 

I would cultivate cheerfulness. Discontent soon 
shows itself in the face. If you have some disappoint- 
ments, so do others. If you are cramped for money, 
be thankful that your lot is no worse than it is. Learn 
to make the best of things. An unhappy woman is a 
perpetual cloud in a home. A fretful girl has few 
friends, and the number lessens year by year. 

I would say kind things of others, especially of girls. 
A girl who makes unkind remarks about other girls had 
better be avoided by young men. She will not make 
an agreeable companion for life. 

I would learn how to be self-supporting. Especially 
in this country, where fortunes change, it is wise for a 
woman to be able to care for herself. Helpless women 

217 



IF I WERE A GIRL. 

are not a comfort to others, and usually not to them- 
selves. 

I would try to be polite everywhere. True courtesy 
is more winsome than a pretty face or fine dress. Loud 
talk or loud dress does not betoken the lady. Be ap- 
preciative and sympathetic, and you have two keys 
which will unlock almost all hearts. 

I would learn self-control. To know when to speak 
and when to be silent, and have hateful things said 
about you and be able to answer pleasantly, to have 
people confide in you and be wise enough to keep it 
locked in your own heart, to be in poverty and not to 
be soured by it, to meet temptation and be strong be- 
fore it, to be strong enough to perform any labor or 
duty that needs to be done — all this shows a noble mas- 
tery over self. 

I would be punctual. Being late at meals, late at 
church, or late in meeting engagements, makes unnec- 
essary friction in families. If we are willing to lose 
valuable time, we have no right to make others lose it. 

I would not be careless about the affections. Girls 
too often think that young men are not easily hurt in 
love matters, or if they are, they soon recover. As a 
rule, probably, men love as deeply as women, and to 
play with hearts is a sin. 

I have known girls engaged to two young men at 
the same time, thoughtless as to the effect upon those 
whom they could not marry. It is a pitiful thing to 
spoil a life, and it is not unfrequently done. The gold- 
en rule of doing unto others as we would that others 
should do unto us is especially applicable here. 

— Sarah K. Bolton. 
218 



RN WAER16HN IDERL 

tN independent young man ; 
A right kind of stuff young man ; 
A deep, comprehensible, 
Plain spoken, sensible, 
Thoroughly self-made young man. 

A not-to be-beaten young man ; 
An up to the front young man ; 

A genuine, plucky, 

Happy-go-lucky, 
Try it again young man. 

A knowledge seeking young man ; 
A real wide-awake young man ; ■ 

A working in season, 

Find out the reason, 
Not too smart to learn young man. 

A look-out-for- others young man ; 
A practice-not-preach young man ; 

Kind, sympathetic, 

Not all theoretic, 
One- in- a- thousand young man. 

Now-a-days scarce young man ; 
A-hard-to-be-found young man ; 

A perfectly self possessed, 

Not always over- dressed, 
Kind that I like young man. 



219 



BY PITS M\d 8TRR78. 

;NE of the hardest lessons to learn is that which 
teaches us to continue to labor zealously, even in 
the face of difficulties, and wait patiently for the 
reward that is tardy in its coming. But it is a lesson 
that the young man or woman cannot learn too early 
in life. The good, old-fashioned sermon on persever- 
ance, though somewhat disregarded amid the hurry and 
bustle of the present, nevertheless holds a truth that will 
not be put down. Application is the prize of success 
to-day, as it ever has been. 

Too often we hear young men declare that their busi- 
ness or profession is a failure, because it has not 
brought immediate wealth or honor, and find them 
leaving one occupation for another that appears more 
promising. In many cases the new calling is no more 
satisfactory than the one previously followed, and it in 
turn gives place to another. And so change follows 
change, the cause of failure always being ascribed to 
the occupation that has not been thoroughly tried by a 
continuous effort. 

Good results come only to those who deserve them. 

One day in winter a boy was engaged is shoveling 
snow from the pavement. The drift was a deep one, 
and he was quite a small boy with a very small shovel, 
and the task appeared like a large undertaking. But 
minute after minute the lad labored, for two whole 
hours, and the drift was removed from the walk. 

220 



SOLID TRUTH. 



When asked how he had accomplished so much with 
such a small tool, he replied: 

"I had nothing but a little stove-shovel to work with, 
I know, but by keeping at it I got the job done." 

And that is the secret behind many of the great 
achievements of life. By just "keeping at it" the 
greatest duties are performed, and success wrought 
from the most unpromising circumstances. The men 
who have done much have not been those who went 
from one calling to another, or who labored by fits and 
starts. They have been those who, having chosen an 
occupation, began their work earnestly and kept at it. 

Spasmodic efforts amount to little or nothing. It is 
steady, continuous driving that counts. It is well to 
begin work; it is better to finish it. The lesson for all 
to learn is to do one thing at a time, and to follow that 
until it is done. 



80M0 TRW 

WO members of the church in Scotland were good 
?|Pf friends till they took different sides at the time of 
^ the disruption. They were both thatchers by 
trade. When the dispute about the principles of kirks 
grew hot they ceased to speak to each other. But one 
day they were both employed at the same job. Each 
took one side of the roof and when they had worked 
up to the top they were face to face. They couldn't 
flee, so at last Andrew took off his cap, and scratching 
his head, said: 

221 



CREEPING VP THE STAIRS. 



"Johnny, you and me, I think ha'e been very foolish 
to dispute as we have done concerning Christ's will 
about our kirks, until we ha'e clean forgotten his will 
about oor ain selves; and so we have fought and fought 
for what we call the truth, and it has ended in spite. 
What ever's wrang,it's perfectly certain that it never can 
be right to be uncivil, unneighborly, unkind, — in fact, 
to hate one anither. Na, na! That's the devil's work, 
and na God's. Noo, it strikes me that maybe it's wi' 
the kirk as with this house — ye'e working on a'e side 
and me o' tither, but if we only do our work weel, we 
will meet at the top at last. Gie's your han' neighbor." 
And so they shook hands and were the best of friends 
ever after. 



GREEP1NQ UP THE STAIRS, 

IjfN the softly-falling twilight 
(\\ Of a weary, weary day, 
^s- With a quiet step I entered 

Where the children were at play. 
I was brooding o'er some trouble 

That had met me unawares, 
When aslittle voice came ringing, 

u Me is creepin' up a stairs/' 

Oh ! it touched the tenderest heart string 
With a breath and force divine, 

And such melodies awakened 
As my words can ne'er define. 

222 



CREEPING UP THE STAIRS. 

And I turned to see our darling, 
All forgetful of my cares, 

When I saw the little creature 
Slowly creeping up the stairs. 

Step by step she bravely clambered 

On her little hands and knees, 
Keeping up a constant chatter 

Like a magpie in the trees ; 
Till at last she reached the topmost, 

When o'er all the world's affairs 
She, delighted, stood a victor, 

After creeping up the stairs. 

Fainting heart, behold an image 

Of man's brief and struggling life, 
Whose best prizes must be captured 

With an earnest, noble strife ; 
Onward, upward, reaching ever, 

Bending to the weight of cares, 
Hoping, fearing, still expecting, 

We go creeping up the stairs. 

On their steps may be no carpet, 

By their sides may be no rail, 
Hands and knees may often pain us, 

And the heart may almost fail ; 
Still above there is a glory 

Which no weariness impairs, 
With its rest and joy forever, 

After creeping up the stairs. 



223 




S0ME7HINQ P0R B0Y8. 

FEW weeks since I saw a touching and 
| beautiful sight. Driving through a rug- 
ged part of the country my attention was 
directed to an elderly lady trying to pick her 
way over a rough hillside. She came very 
slowly and carefully. The hill was quite steep, and I 
was pitying her and thinking if it would not be well to 
offer my services, when I heard a whistling boy coming 
up behind my carriage. He bounded past, and run- 
ning up the hill put his arms around the lady and stead- 
ied her steps, saying pleasant words, I know, for the 
face incased in the warm hood looked beaming and 
bright with happiness. As we passed I heard these 
words: "It is so nice to have a boy to come and help 
a mother down a hill." They passed on and went into 
a farm house at the foot of the hill; I knew they were 
mother and son. There was a sermon in those few 
words. I thought, I wish every boy could have heard 
them. 

You boys are all of you here to help mother down 
the hill of life. You don't all do it though; more's the 
pity. Some of you make it harder for her; she is anx- 
ious about you, and then she has to pick her way over 
places a thousand times rougher than walking down a 
steep hill. Perhaps you are getting into bad habits, 
and will not obey her council. Her heart is bruised 
and torn by your conduct. She knows what the re- 
sults of evil doing are : that if a boy begins habits that 

224 



SOMETHING FOR BOYS. 



he only considers light as cobwebs in his youth, by and 
by they may become iron chains around him, and when 
he is a man he will be a slave to them. 

Now, boys, if you would help the dear mother down 
the hill of life and make the path smooth for her, do 
the things she wishes you to do. And if you are all 
right as regards bad habits, perhaps you are not as 
thoughtful of the "little things" that make up life as 
you might be. Be as polite in waiting upon your moth- 
er as you are in waiting on other boys' mothers. Don't 
speak in rough tones to her. Be always gentle when 
you speak to her, and careful to remember what she 
wishes you to be particular to do at different times and 
different places. 

"It's so nice to have a boy to help a mother down 
the hill." Yes, when weary and worn with life's hard 
work, and age begins to come, it is a great satisfaction 
and a source of gratitude to know that a strong, upright 
boy is coming to help mother down. 

And you boys who have gone from home all together, 
you cannot literally put your arms around mother and 
steady her steps, and yet you can write good, long let- 
ters, and tell her you wish you were in the old home 
again, so you could hug her and kiss her as you did 
when you was a little fellow and loved to climb up in 
her lap. One of the greatest blessings in the world is 
that of having a praying mother. Make yourselves 
worthy of the good mothers God has given you, and 
take your mother's God for your God in the days of 
your youth. 



225 



POVERTY RN0 PIB1710N. 

I STORY has taught us that no circumstances are 
too humble for a child born into them to rise to 
eminence. It has also taught us that poverty is 
frequently a help rather than a hindrance, and the right 
kind of a man will make circumstances bend to his pur- 
pose and not let circumstances bend him. There is a 
breed of heroes, which is never extinct in any age of 
the world; who delight in obstacles, and who make 
poverty, disadvantages and youthful deprivations only 
serve as the rounds of the ladder by which they climb 
to greatness. They do not sit down and whine because 
others are more fortunate than they. They take fort- 
une as it comes, unmurmuringly, and by a kind of mys- 
terious alchemy, as it were, transmute misfortunes into 
benefits. 



STRUGGLE. 

REAT strength is bought with pain 
From out the strife — 
From out the storms that sweep the human soul- 
Comes forth the lofty calm of self-control. 

Peace after war. Although the heart may be 

Trampled and plowed like a torn battle-field, 

Rich are the fruits that follow victory, 

And battle-grounds the fullest harvests yield. 

226 




LABOR. 



STRUGGLE. 

Strong grows his arm who breasts a downward stream,. 

And stems with steady stroke the mighty tide 
Of his own passions. Sore the wrench may seem, 

Yet only he is strong whose strength is tried. 

To toil is hard. To lay aside the oar — 

To softly rise and fall with passion's swell — 

Is easier far, but when the dream is o'er, 
The bitterness of waking none can tell. 

To float at ease, by sleepy zephyrs fanned, 
Is but to grow more feeble, day by day, 

While slips life's little hour out, sand by sand, 

And strength and hope together waste away. 

He only wins who sets his thews of steel 

With tighter tension for the prick of pain ; 

Who wearies, yet stands fast ; whose patient zeal 
Welcomes the present loss for future gain. 

Toil before ease : the cross before the crown. 

Who covets rest, he first must earn the boon. 
He who at night in peace would lay him down, 

Must bear his load amid the heats of noon. 



How can we expect a harvest of thought who have 
not had the seed time of character? 



A nice wife and a back door often make a rich maa 
poor. 

227 



Ilff HE next time you are on a street car or in a crowd, 
flm notice attentively the faces about you and see if I 
^ am not right in saying the expression of the 
mouth gives you the key to the whole character. 

" You will find the women better subjected than the 
men. In the latter, mustaches adroitly conceal much 
that might otherwise mar a good-looking face, for it is 
true that a very few mouths wear the graceful curves 
nature cast them in. Take the woman who sat opposite 
you to-night. 

"She was beautifully dressed, but how you pitied the 
people who had to live with her, for every time the car 
gave a lurch or someone rubbed against her, she 
scowled in the face of the poor unfortunate beside her 
as if he was presumably responsible for the discom- 
forts she suffered, and you shuddered to think what 
that woman's face would be were the coffee cold or the 
cakes white. 

11 You secretly adored the gracious looking woman 
sitting next the door, who caught all the draughts and 
was crowded and jostled by every passer, but still main- 
tained that gentle equilibrium so delightful to look 
upon. 

" Yes, I know it requires immense courage and for- 
titude to look cheerful when your dainty patent tips are 
being ruthlessly trodden on, but there is your chance to 
be truly heroic ; besides, if you will allow yourself to 

228 



WHAT A SMILE DIH. 



be annoyed and show it, someone is sure to observe it. 

" Study yourselves, if you will, some day when the 
world seems clouded, from the day outside to the 
domestic atmosphere inside, when the indigo tints pre- 
dominate everywhere, hunt out the best mirror you can 
find and take a good square look at yourself. 

" Does the reflection please you? How quickly you 
pull up the corners of the mouth (you didn't know you 
could look so ugly,) for most of us, no matter how read- 
ily we inflict discontented expressions on the world at 
large, dislike to confront the same of ourselves." 



LADY of position and property, anxious about 
her neighbors, provided religious services for 
them. She was very deaf — could scarcely hear at 
all. On one occasion one of her preachers managed 
to make her understand him, and at the close of the 
conversation asked: " But what part do you take in 
the work?" '"Oh," she replied, " I smile them in and 
smile them out! " Very soon the preacher saw the re- 
sult of her generous, loving sympathy in a multitude 
of broad-shouldered, hard-fisted men, who entered the 
place of worship, delighted to get a smile from her as 
she used to stand in the door-way to receive them. 
Why do not the working class attend the house of God? 
They would in great numbers, if self-denying, Christ- 
loving christians would smile them in and smile them 
out. 



229 



PA71ENGE, 



|j|E patient ! Easy words to speak 

While plenty fills the cup of life, 
While health brings roses to the cheek, 
And far removed our cares and strife. 



Falling so glibly from the tongue 
Of those — I often think of this — 

Whom suffering has never wrung, 
Who scarcely know what patience is. 

Be patient! when the suff'rer lies 
Prostrate beneath some fell disease, 

And longs, through torturing agonies, 
Only for one short hour of ease. 

Be patient when the weary brain 

Is racked with thought and anxious care,. 

And troubles in an endless train 
Seem almost more than it can bear. 

To feel the torture of delay, 

The agony of hope deferred ; 
To labor still from day to day, 

The prize unwon, the prayer unheard. 

And still to hope and strive and wait 
The due reward for fortune's kiss ; 

This is to almost conquer fate, 
This is to learn what patience is. 

230 



KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. 

Despair not ! though the clouds are dark, 
And storm and danger veil the sky ; 

Let fate and courage guide thy barque, 
The storm will pass, the port is nigh. 

Be patient, and the tide will turn, 
Shadows will flee before the sun ; 

These are the hopes that live and burn 
To light us till our work is done. 



KEEP IT TO Y©UR8Elif7. 

fOU have trouble, your feelings are injured, your 
husband is unkind, your wife frets, your home is 
^ not pleasant, your friends do not treat you fairly, 
and things generally move unpleasantly. Well, what 
of it? Keep it to yourself. A smothering fire can be 
found and extinguished; but, when coals are scattered, 
you cannot pick them up. Bury your sorrow. The 
place for sad disgusting things is under the ground. 
A cut finger is not benefited by pulling off the plaster 
and exposing it to somebody's eye. Charity covereth 
a multitude of sins. Things thus covered are cured 
without a scar; but, once published and confided to 
meddling friends, there is no end to the trouble they 
may cause. Keep it to yourself. Troubles are tran- 
cient; and when a sorrow is healed and passed, what 
a comfort it is to say, "No one ever knew it till it was 
over." 



231 



PRflY FOR POWER. 



^JWHE worlding may succeed in life by carefulness, 
frjjjjf by skill, by intelligence and by force, but in the 

^ work of God no man can succeed without prayer. 
No human power can effect the changes and accomplish 
the work required in the service of God. There is a 
superhuman work to be done, and a superhuman ener- 
gy is required for its accomplishment. 

To be prayerless is to be powerless. No matter 
what other qualifications men may have for the work, 
unless they have the power of God, they will never 
succeed in accomplishing the service of God. 



YOUR NEIGHBOR'S MOTES, 

JfjiEARN to seal your lips forever on the wretched, 
jfyf miserable habit of telling the world about the 
* motes in your neighbor's eye. Who made you a 
judge over him? Go, if you will, and personally tell 
him his faults between you and him alone. Tell him 
with love and sympathy in your heart because you want 
to help him to become nobler and better, because you 
cannot bear to see a stain on him, and not because you 
would humble him or glory over him, and in the end 
he will bless you for it, and you will have done a good 
work. But never tell the world of his faults. 



232 



ft REGONG'IMRI'ION. 

tDO not know 
If I were wrong or you ; 
^ It grieves me so 

To think I gave you pain, 
That I my gift must rue, 
And take it back again. 

I do not know 

If you or I were right ; 
Your tears have caused me woe, 

And if you weep again 
I shall grow more contrite, 

And covet all your pain. 

I do not know 

Nor care which one was right ; 
For when your dear eyes flow 

I cannot speak for pain, 
And tear-mists blind my sight 

Until you smile again. 

So let it go — 

We may both have been wrong, 
Or partly so ; 

But sin is purged by pain, 
And royal souls are strong 

To wound and heal again. 

— Ella D. Clymer. 



233 



■QBD RtyBtfS BEST, 

S DON'T love you, Auntie, you have spoiled my 
paper," said little Nell as she began to cry and held 
^ up a paper from which I had just clipped a choice bit 
for a scrap-book I am making for her. 

Although she is scarcely four years old, I am laying 
plans for her future happiness, and I believe she will 
fully appreciate and be grateful for it all when she is old 
enough to understand how it is. 

But at present, she sees only that something has been 
taken that she wants now, although it would do her no 
good if she had it. 

She no longer enjoys the pictures and the rest of the 
paper but makes herself miserable for the little bit seem- 
ingly taken from her. 

But she is no more unreasonable than many of us 
who are older. 

How many times we act, if not say "I don't love you 
God," when he has withheld this or that anticipated ob- 
ject or pleasure from us. As we grow older we see 
God's wisdom in withholding many things that we once 
thought necessary to our happiness. 

Let us learn to fully trust Him in all things, believing 
He knows what is best for us, and so loves us as to 
withhold what we ought not to have, although we earn- 
estly desire it. Let us leave the choice to Him, for He 
will surely give us the best. 



234 



m UP AND 00^6, 

RE you not wearying for the heavenly rest?" said 
««| Whitfield to an old minister one day. 
->-^ "No, certainly not!" he replied. 

"Why not?" was the surprised rejoinder of Whitfield. 

"Why, my good brother," said the aged saint, "if 
you were to send your servant into the fields to do a 
certain portion of work, for you, and promised to give 
him refreshments in the evening, what would you say 
if you found him languid and discontented in the mid- 
dle of the day, and murmuring, 'Would to God it were 
evening!' Would you not bid him be up and doing, 
and finish the work, and then go home and enjoy the 
promised rest? Just so does God require of you and 
me, that instead of looking for Saturday night, we do 
our day's work in the day." 



H@W 70 mW GWWBREH L'BVELY. 



HERE is just one way; that is to surround them 
by day and night with an atmosphere of love. 
Restraint and reproof may be mingled with love, 
but love must be a constant element. ' 'I found my little 
girl was growing unamiable and plain," said a mother 
to us the other day, "and, reflecting on it sadly, I 
could only accuse myself as the cause thereof. So I 
changed my management, and improved every oppor- 

235 



TELL JESUS. 



tunity to praise and encourage her; to assure her of 
my unbounded affection for her, and my earnest de- 
sire that she should grow up to lovely and harmoni- 
ous womanhood. As a rose opens to the sunshine, so 
the child opened in the warmth of the constant affec- 
tion and caresses I showered upon her; her peevish- 
ness passed away, her face grew beautiful; and now one 
look from me brings her to my side, obedient to my 
will, and happiest when she is near me." Is not this a 
lesson for all parents? Not all the plowing or weeding 
or cultivation of every sort we can give our growing 
crops, will do for them what the steady shining of the 
sun can affect. Love is the sun-shine of the family; 
without it, not character, or morality, or virtue, can be 
brought to perfection. 



ill HEN thou wakest in the morning, 
™m Ere thou tread the untried way 
Of the lot that lies before thee, 
Through the coming busy day ; 
Whether sunbeams promise brightness, 

Whether dim forebodings fall, 
Be the dawning glad or gloomy, 
Go to Jesus — tell Him all. 

In the calm of sweet communion 

Let the daily work be done ; 
In the peace of soul out-pouring 

Care be banished, patience won ; 

236 



" IF I WERE A BOY." 

And if earth, with its enchantments, 

Seeks the spirit to enthrall, 
Ere thou listen, ere thou answer, 

Turn to Jesus— tell Him all ! 

Then, as hour by hour glides by thee, 

Thou wilt blessed guidance know ; 
Thine own burdens being lightened, 

Thou can'st bear another's woe ; 
Thou can'st help the weak ones onward, 

Thou can'st raise up those that fall ; 
But remember, while thou servest, 

Still tell Jesus— tell him all ! 

And if weariness creep o'er thee, 

As the day wears to its close, 
Or if sudden fierce temptation 

Bring thee face to face with foes, 
In thy weakness, in thy peril, 

Raise to heaven a trustful call ; 
Strength and calm for every crisis 

Come — in telling Jesus all. 

— Georgiana Taylor. 



"W i Were a B0Y." 

F I were a boy again I would look on the cheerful 
side of everything, for almost everything has a 
cheerful side. Life is very much like a mirror; if 
you smile upon it, it smiles back upon you; but if you 
frown and look doubtful upon it, you will be sure to 
get a similar look in return. I once heard it said of a 
grumbling, unthankful person: "He would have made 
an uncommonly fine sour apple, if he had happened to 

237 



<N V' J 



*' IF I WERE A JBOF.V 



have been born in that station. " Inner sunshine not only 
warms the heart of the owner, but all those who come 
in contact with it. Indifference begets indifference. 
"Who shuts love out, in turn shall be shut out from 
love." 

If I were a boy again, I would school myself to say 
'"No," oftener. I might write pages on the impor- 
tance of learning very early in life to gain that point 
w T here a young man can stand erect and decline doing 
an unworthy thing because it is unworthy. 

If I were a boy again, I would demand of myself 
-more courtesy toward my companions and friends. 
Indeed, I would rigorously exact it of myself to 
.strangers as well. The smallest courtesies interspersed 
:along the rough roads of life are like the English spar- 
rows singing to us all the winter long, and making that 
:season of ice and snow more endurable to everybody. 

But I have talked long enough, and this shall be my 
parting paragraph. Instead of trying so hard as some 
of us do to be happy, as if that was the soul purpose 
of life, I would, if I were a boy again, try still harder 
to deserve happiness. 

— James T. Fields. 



M 0PEN 8TW 

pOU will not be able to go through life without 
being discovered; a lighted candle cannot be hid. 
There is a feeling among some good people that 
it will be wise to be very reticent and hide their light 
under a bushel. They intend to lie low all the war 
time, and come out when the palms are being distrib- 
uted. They hope to travel to Heaven by the back 
lanes, and skulk into glory by disguise. Rest assured, 
my fellow christians, that at some period or other, in 
the most quiet lives, there will come a moment for open 
decision. Days will come wben we must speak out, or 
prove traitors to our Lord and to his truth. You can- 
not long hold fire in the hollow of your hand, or keep 
a candle under the bed. Godliness, like murder, will 
out. You will not always be able to travel to Heaven 
incog. — Spu rgeon . 



A WIPE'S LUGKY A66-IDW 

jpOMETIMES what seems to be a very unfortunate 
accident will turn out to be a blessing in disguise. 
It is said that tinted paper was first made by ac- 
cident, in this way: Mrs. East, the wife of an English 
paper maker, working on a wash day near a large vat 
which had in it the pulp from which the paper was to 
be made, accidentally dropped her bluing bag into it. 

239 



A BRIGHTER MORROW. 



She thought the paper would be ruined, and was too 
frightened to tell her husband what she had done. 

When the paper came out, it had a peculiar tinge,' 
but the workmen could not explain it, so the paper 
maker sent the whole batch to London; with instructions 
to sell it for whatever they could get for it. But when 
the buyers saw it they thought it pretty, called it 
"something new, " and orders poured in upon the aston- 
ished manufacturer for more of the same sort. The 
wife confessed what she had done, and we may be sure 
she was forgiven readily, for by her lucky accident her 
husband's fortune was made; and that is the history of 
the very simple origin of tinted paper. 



fl BRIGHTER M0RR0W. 

ARK cloud-folds wave above us, 

The squadrons of the rain 
Bear down upon the forest, 

And sweep along the plain ; 
They break their shining lances 

Against our loved retreat, 
And trample our sweet blossoms 

With swift, unsparing feet ; 
Yet will our hearts be joyous, 

Nor grief nor trouble borrow, 
There cometh peace, the storm will cease- 

There'll be a brighter morrow. 

So, when our lives are darkened, 

And clouds of ill hang o'er, 
We'll never fear the sunshine 

Will find the earth no more. 

240 



A BRIGHTER MORROW. 

" Let not your hearts be troubled ! " 

Still kindly sayeth He 
Whose mandate hushed the waters 

Of stormy Galilee. 
He brings the balm of Gilead 

To heal the wounds of sorrow ; 
At His behest, there cometh rest — 

There'll be a brighter morrow. 

Brave brother, art thou weary 

And is the journey long ? 
Dear sisters, do'st thou falter, 

Hath sorrow stilled thy song ? 
Rejoice ! the sunset reddens, 

The clouds are rolling by, 
The glorious "bow of promise" 

Hangs in the eastern sky ! 
Thy Heaven will be sweeter 

For days of earthly sorrow ; 
The storm will cease, there cometh peace — 

There'll be a brighter morrow. 

— Andrew Downing. 



X) not be discouraged at the difficulties that seem 
so great before you. They may seem great a lit- 
tle way off, but they always diminish or vanish al- 
together as we come near them. Some one has saici 
duties and difficulties are like the nightmare; as soon as 
you stir, they vanish. Learn to look on the bright side 
and you will be surprised at the number of things that 
will turn up to help. 



241 



WHEN 81LENGE 18 G0L0EN. 
JHAT there is a time to speak and a time to keep 

I 



W silent, seems to be an idea which some very good 
people have failed to grasp. The Mongols illus- 
trate this thought in a story that runs thus: 

Two geese, when about to start southward on their 
autumn migration, were entreated by a frog to take him 
with them. On the geese expressing their willingness 
to do so if a means of conveyance could be devised, the 
frog produced a stock of strong grass,got the two geese 
to take it one by each end, while he clung to it with his 
mouth in the middle. 

In this manner the three were making the journey 
successfully when they were noticed from below by some 
men, who loudly expressed their admiration of the device, 
and wondered who had been clever enough to discover 
it. The frog opened his mouth to say, "It was I," lost 
his hold, fell to the earth, and was dashed to pieces. 

Moral: — Do not let pride induce you to speak when 
safety requires you to be silent. 



TRUST MB RES?. 

m 'RUST God implicitly, submit to Him cheerfully, 
WW and you will find that all shall be well; that more 
^ grace will be given you; that the heavier the trial, 
the larger will be the blessed measure of the strength. 
The shepherd is leading you in the right way to his 
own blessed fold. Leave it all to Him. 

242 



NO M0NEY W ij, 

||B-W|Y mother gets me up, builds the fire, and gets 
'JfMft my breakfast, and sends me off," said a bright 
^*^ youth. "Then she gets my father up and gets 
his breakfast and sends him off. Then she gives the 
other children their breakfast, arid sends them to school; 
and then she and the baby have their breakfast." 

"How old is the baby?" asked the reporter. 

"Oh, she is 'most two, but she can talk and walk as 
well as any of us." 

"Are you well paid?" 

"I get two dollars a week, and father gets two dol- 
lars a day." 

"How much' does your mother get?" 

With a bewildered look the boy said, "Mother, why 
she don't work for anybody." 

"I thought you said she worked for all of you." 

"Oh, yes, for us, she does; but there ain't no money 
in it. 



WHEN Spilt WE WW 

HEN shall we win ? Why, when we fire 
!| Straight to the mark and never tire ; 
When we hold fast, as we've begun 
And still work on till all is done. 



243 




iMONG the fascinations of a beautiful woman, none 
jGv| exceed that of a cultivated voice. Every woman 
♦"" cannot learn to sing, but she can learn to practice 
alluring intonations of the voice. Good speech is tune- 
ful though it be not song. Modulation in talking is a 
sort of harmony. Lack of a pretty face may be entire- 
ly counteracted by a well-trained voice united with an 
ease of manner. 



\HARITY opens her door to need, 
SBS Without regard to faith or creed ; 

Spreads her mantle of love and grace 
Without regard to time or place. 

She does not ask applause of men, 
The blatant voice of tongue or pen ; 
But sheds her blessings soft and still, 
As sweet and pure as mountain rill. 

Where'er distress and sorrows are, 
She bends her love and gives her care ; 
Lifts up the sad and sorrowing heart, 
With mercy's charm and pity's part. 

She spreads her mantle free and fair, 
As Nature's gifts — the light and air, 
With hand and purse, alike she's free, 
And boundless as the heaving sea. 

244 



CHARITY. 

When called to meet some special case,. 
She does not ask whereof the place ; 
She bends her strength to give relief, 
Assuage their sorrow, care and grief. 

Spreads her mantle, o'er every ill, 
Her mercy as the dews distill ; 
Seeks not for pomp or proud array, 
But simply asks the means, the way. 

The orphan's prayer, the widow's cry, 
Whenever souls in anguish sigh, 
She turns her feet to help and bless, 
And joyous gives her kind caress. 

All hail sweet charity ! all hail ! all hail ! 
When here on earth all else shall fail, 
Thy breast all free, and pure and bright, 
Shall glow with Heaven's brightest light. 

— A. F. Scott. 



I ITHOUT earnestness no man is ever great, or 
WB really does great things. He may be the clever- 
est man; he may be brilliant, entertaining, pop- 
ular, but he will want weight. No soul moving picture 
was ever painted that had not in its depths a shadow. 



If you can see nothing but the bad, shut your eyes. 
Better be blind than unable to see the beautiful and the 
good. 



245 



M@E DISCRIMINATION ©p 7 W0RD8. 

|| RETTY, refers to external beauty on a small scale. 
Grace of manner, is a natural gift; elegance, im- 
plies cultivation. Well-bred, refers to general 
conduct rather than individual actions. Beautiful, is 
the strongest word of its class, implying softness and 
delicacy in addition to everything that is in similar 
words. Courtesy has reference to others, politeness, 
to ourselves. The former is a duty or privilege to 
others, the latter is behavior assumed from proper self- 
respect. Benevolent, refers to the character of the 
agent acting, benificent, to the act performed. Charit- 
able, is restricted to almsgiving except when used in 
reference to judgment of others. Lovely is used where 
there is something more than external beauty — when 
there is a combination of personal beauty and pleasing 
manner. Faultless features do not make a lady lovely 
who is disagreeable in disposition. 



EVERY @NE GKN tfELP. 

GENTLEMAN related once that a traveler stood 
outside a splendid cathedral in Germany, express- 
ing his admiration of its beauty. ''Yes," said a 
laborer who happened to hear him, "it's a fine building 
and took us many years to finish it." "Took you," 
exclaimed the gentleman, ' 'why what had you to do 

246 



GROWING OLD. 



with it?" "I mixed the mortar that's in it sir," was the 
modest reply. That laborer had a right to feel he had 
some share in the grand work now complete; his part 
though humble, had been well done, and he was not 
ashamed of it. In the struggle of right against wrong, 
every one can help; your place dear reader may be low- 
ly, but if you are diligent and trustworthy, if you fulfill 
your daily work as in the Master's sight, you are a fel- 
low laborer with Him, you will yet hear Him say to 
you, "Well done, good and faithful servant." 



GROWING 0liO. 

t HEY call it " going down the hill ! " when we are grow- 
ing old, 
And speak with mournful accents when our tale is 
nearly told ; 
They sigh when talking of the past, the days that used to 

be, 
As if the future were not bright with immortality. 

But 'tis not going down — 'tis climbing higher and higher^ 
Until we almost see the mountains that our souls desire ; 
For if the natural eye grows dim, it is but dim to the earth, 
While the eye of faith grows keener to discern the Savior's 
worth. 

Who would exchange for shooting blade, the waving golden 

grain, 
Or when the corn is fully ripe, would wish it green again ? 
And who would wish the hoary head, found in the way of 

truth, 
To be again encircled with the sunny locks of youth ? 

247 



GROWING OLD. 

For though in truth the outward man must perish and 

decay, 
The inward man shall be renewed by grace from day to 

day ; 
Those who are planted by the Lord, unshaken in the root, 
Shall in their old age flourish, and bring forth choicest 

fruit. 

It is not years that make old men ; the spirit may be 

young, 
Though fully three score years and ten the wheels of life 

have run; 
God has Himself recorded, in His blessed word of truth 
That they who wait upon the Lord, they shall e'en renew 

their youth. 

And when the eyes now dim shall open to behold the 

king, 
And ears now dull with age shall hear the harps of Heaven 

ring— 
And on the head now hoary shall be placed the crown of 

gold, 
Then shall be known the lasting joy of never growing old. 



UR human duties are faithfully and joyfully per- 
formed only when we feel that they are not of our 
own choosing, but tasks divinely ordered and at- 
tuned to that high purpose which " through the ages 
runs." 

— H. G. Spaulding. 



248 



SYSIEW1G 8#\fl 

fMALL savings are the foundation of great wealth. 
Most of the successful men of America practiced 
economy to secure a foothold in the commercial 
or financial world. Many of the professional celebri- 
ties of our day and age began life at the foot of the 
ladder and rose step by step, each advance made pos- 
sible by self-denial and frugality. The late Daniel 
Dougherty, whose fame as an orator, author and law- 
yer was world-wide, saved enough out of his pitifully 
small wages as a messenger boy to pay for the laying 
of the foundation of his education. 

No thoughtless spendthrift can ever hope to win 
fame or fortune. Many a genius has ended his career 
in the gutter because he failed to understand the first 
principle of business life. The man who is generous 
before being just is a useless, and often dangerous, 
member of society. 

Systematic saving is the keynote to success. Dick- 
ens has illustrated the truth of this statement by draw- 
ing the character of Micawber. Every city and hamlet 
in the United States has its Micawbers — good fellows, 
jovial and generous, but forever living on the work and 
charity of their friends. Chronic impecuniosity always 
ends in a total loss of self-respect, and man who cannot 
respect himself is on the road to the poor house or the 
penitentiary. 

Every able-bodied man in the United States can 
save something out of his weekly wages or his monthly 

249 



SYSTEMATIC SAVING. 



salary. The self-denial which may be required to be- 
come a capitalist on a small scale may lead to better 
things. It trains the mind and develops confidence in 
self. Five dollars per month placed in a building 
association is equivalent to one thousand dollars in 
nine years. Five dollars deposited each month in a 
reliable savings bank amounts to sixty dollars at the 
close of each year and four per cent, interest. 

Labor organizations would do well to instruct their 
members in the rudiments of practical financiering. 

Every dollar saved, if properly invested in a home, 
building association or bank, earns another dollar in 
the course of a few months and eventually makes the 
investor a free man who can look forward to sickness 
and old age with perfect equanimity. 

Every dollar wasted is a wasted opportunity. The 
spendthrift has no friends when his substance is squan- 
dered. The last days of his life are invariably days of 
misery and vain regrets. 

Look upon both sides of the picture before it is too 
late. Habits of economy and vicious traits are alike 
formed early in life. Every man must at an early 
period decide for himself whether it is better to be a 
useful citizen or a drone, a man or a parasite. 



^^ ^SSRrtCBSE* ^^9 




250 



BROKEN HEARTS. 

WHERE are broken hearts in the world to-day 
Though smiling faces hide them ; 
They pass and repass on the old highway, 
With stifled grief beside them. 
The wan, white face of the woman who knows 

That she must wander apart 
From the soul where not even pity glows, 
With a proud and broken heart. 



There are broken hearts in the world to-day, 

Beneath warm furs and laces ; 
Bleak December gnaws at those hearts, though May 

Smiles in the dauntless faces. 
The resolute eyes of the man we see 

By day in the busy mart ; 
Look down in the night through his soul, and he 

Looks into a broken heart. 



There are broken hearts in the world to-day, 

For all the cynic's laughter; 
The warm hearts that were red and growing gray, 

Hope fled and Youth went after. 
But the sun comes up and the world goes round 

And all of us play our parts, 
But over as well as under the ground 

There are dead and broken hearts. 

— John Ernest McCann. 



251 



KEEPING HIS WORD, 

MPLOYEES are often very particular not to over- 
step their own duties, or to do work neglected by 
others. It would be well, however, for every 
young man just starting in life to remember that the 
man who succeeds, is the one who is ready to turn his 
hand to anything that will advance the interest of his 
employer, as he would be were he in business for him- 
self. 

Mr. Wilder, the first president of the American Tract 
Society, and widely known for his large benevolence in 
this country and in Europe, was once head clerk for a 
large firm in Charlestown, Mass. He sold a customer 
a ball of Russian duck, to be delivered at one o'clock. 
The firm was out of duck and he went over to Boston 
to buy it. No cart-man was at hand, and he engaged 
a porter to take it over in a wheel-barrow. 

Returning soon after, he found the porter on the 
bridge, sitting on the wheel-barrow, half dead with 
heat. It was half-past twelve, and the duck was prom- 
ised at one. Without hesitation, Mr. Wilder, in spite 
of heat and dust, started with the wheel-barrow. 

A wealthy merchant on horseback met him and said, 
with a smile, "Turned truckman, Wilder?" 

"These goods are due at one o'clock," said Mr. 
Wilder, "and my porter has given out, so I must de- 
liver them myself to keep my word." 

"Good, good!" said the gentleman, and went 

252 



THE GIRL WHO WORKS. 



directly to Mr. Wilder's employer to tell what he had 
seen, and to add, ' ' Tell Wilder when he wishes to go 
into business for himself, my name is at his service for 
thirty thousand dollars." 

No work is too menial if it is necessary to keep an 
engagement. 



THE GIRL W|H@ WORKS. 
HERE is a girl, and I love to think of her and talk 



-£ 



$Wf of her, who comes in late when there is company 
^ who wears a pretty little air of mingled responsi- 
bility and anxiety with her youth, whom the others 
seem to depend upon and look to her for many com- 
forts. She is the girl who helps mother. 

In her own home she is a blessed little saint and com- 
forter. She takes unfinished tasks from the tired, stiff 
fingers that falter at their work ; her strong young 
figure is a staff upon which the gray-haired, white-faced 
mother leans and is rested. She helps mother with the 
spring's sewing, the week's mending, with a cheerful 
conversation and congenial companionship that some 
girls do not think worth while on only mother. And 
when there comes a day when she must bend over the 
old worn-out body of mother lying unheedful in her 
coffin, rough hands folded, her long disquiet merged in 
rest, something very sweet will be mingled with her 
loss, and the girl who helped mother will find a bene- 
diction of peace upon her head. 



253 



THE GRUMBLER. 

HIS YOUTH. 

ilgf^IS cap was too thick and his coat was too thin 
WBj\ He couldn't be quiet, he hated a din ; 
-jglf He hated to write, and he hated to read; 
He was certainly very much injured indeed ; 
He must study and toil ; overwork he detested ; 
His parents were strict and he never was rested ; 
He knew he was wretched as wretched could be, 
There was no one so wretchedly wretched as he. 

HIS MANHOOD. 

His farm was too small and his taxes too big ; 
He was selfish and lazy and as cross as a pig ; 
His wife was too silly, his children too rude, 
And just because he was uncommonly good ! 
He hadn't got money enough to spare ; 
He had nothing at all fit to eat or to wear ; 
He knew he was wretched as wretched could be, 
There was no one so wretchedly wretched as he. 

HIS OLD AGE. 

He finds he has sorrows more deep than his fears ; 
He grumbles to think he has grumbled for years ; 
He grumbles to think he has grumbled away 
His home and his children, his life's little day. 
But alas ! 'tis too late ! it is no use to say 
That his eyes are too dim and his hair too gray; 
He knows he is wretched as wretched can be ; 
There is no one so wretchedly wretched as he. 



254. 



0UR NEIGHBOR'S R[?|7R1R8. 



HY discuss them at all. It is such a temptation 
MVP to add details and distort meanings in order to 
^^ produce a piquant story, that even good people 
sometimes yield to it; so beware danger and eschew 
gossips entirely A word spoken out of season, even 
the truth badly told, or at an improper time, may inflict 
an injury which it is not in the power of anyone to re- 
pair. The motives of the individual are quite a second- 
ary matter; the gun-shot wound inflicted by the man 
who "didn't know his gun was loaded" is as fatal as the 
murderer's shot. When a cruel wrong has been done 
an innocent person, it only adds fuel to one's indigna- 
tion to have the gossip retailer expostulate with tears in 
her eyes, that she meant no harm; she only told what 
she heard; she did not know it would do harm. The 
harm that has been wrought is a matter which chiefly 
concerns us, in such a case, not the motives. It is a 
good rule not only to refrain from all evil criticism of 
persons, but from listening to such criticism. It should 
be systematically enforced on children that such conver- 
sation is beneath them and indicative of low breeding. 
The writer remembers seeing a mite of eight years old 
withdraw herself when such conversation which was 
distasteful was taking place. "Mamma has always told 
me," she said, " never to gossip about my friends, or to 
go with anyone who did, and I don't want to hear any- 
thing mean of people I don't know." And this should 
be the creed of everyone. 

255 



KEEP SWEET. 



If you hear a bad story on anyone, remember that, if 
it is true, by repeating it you put an obstacle in the way 
of the guilty man to prevent his doing better in the 
future, and if it is not true, you do him a greater injury 
than can be done in any other way. There are so 
many good reasons why you should not repeat gossip, 
and not one good one why you should, that if you stop 
and reflect you will never be guilty of it. You know 
that after you have said it you cannot unsay it nor limit 
the number to whom your words will be repeated. 



KEEP SWEET. 

f[AN it be gainsaid, that there is no duty more largely 
I neglected by the average, every-day christian than 
"*■ the duty of being pleasant ? One reason may be 
because so few people ever look upon it in the light of 
a duty. But are we not under just as much obligation 
to be pleasant as to be honest, or truthful, or just, or 
pure, or generous ? Parents who punish children 
severely for other faults will often excuse a fit of mo- 
roseness or sulleness by saying, "Oh, it is only his 
natural disposition ! " as if that settled the whole ques- 
tion. Pleasantness of speech and manner can be culti- 
vated like any other grace of character. To be sweet 
when everything seems to be going wrong, and when 
everybody around is cross, as well as when the domestic 
skies are free from clouds ; then it is that the pleasant 
member of the family is appreciated. 



256 



W 1 HPD 

tF I had known when last 1 touched the fingers 
Of him I loved so well, 
» That ne'er again their clinging clasp would thrill me 
With love's strange spell, 
I had not been so careless in my greeting 
So free to say farewell — 
If I had known ! 

If I had known that low voice, sad and tender, 

That pleaded for one word, 
One little word to carry as love's token, 

Would ne'er be heard 
Till life were past, my heart, then cold and careless,. 

How might it have been stirred — 
If I had known ! 

If I had known ! Ah ! hopeless, sad reflection ; 

Thus late, it brings no cheer, 
If I had known how soon cold death would silence 

The voice so dear : 
Had shown some of the little love I cherished, 
Life were not now so drear — 
If I had known ! 

— M. C. Brown:, 




257 



OBEYING PLEH8flN7M(. 

ITTLE Harry had seen some older boys fly their 
kites from the tops of houses, and he thought it 
would be nice fun S he could do so too — so he came 
to his aunt and said: 

1 'Aunt Mary, can I go up to the top of the house and 
fly my kite?" 

His aunt wished to do everything that was proper to 
please him, but she thought this was very unsafe, so 
she said: 

"No, Harry, my boy; I think that is very dangerous 
sort of play. I'd rather you wouldn't go." 

"All right. Then I'll go out on the bridge," said 
Harry. 

His aunt smiled, and said she hoped he would al- 
ways be as obedient as that. 

"Harry, what are you doing?" said his mother on 
one occasion. 

"Spinning my new top, mother." 

"Can't you take the baby out to ride? Get the car- 
riage, and I'll bring him down." 

"All right!" shouted the boy, as he put his top away 
in his pocket, and hastened to obey his mother. 

"Uncle William, may I go over to the store this 
morning?" said Harry one day at breakfast. "I want 
to see those baskets again that I was looking at yester- 
day." 

"O yes, Harry," said his uncle; "I shall be very glad 
to have you." 

258 



THE BONDAGE OF LOVE. 



"But I cannot spare you to-day, Harry," said his 
mother; "I want you to go with me; you shall go to 
the store another time." 

"All right," said Harry, and went on eating. 

No matter what Harry was asked to do, or what re- 
fusal he met with when asking for anything, his con- 
stant answer was "All right." He never asked, "Why, 
can't I?" or "Why musn't I?" Harry not only learn- 
ed to obey, but he learned to obey in good humor. 



THE B&HWE ^ l^QVE, 

SWEET will of God, thou hast girded me round, 
Like the deep moving currents that girdle the sea ; 
With omnipotent love is my poor nature bound, 
And this bondage of love sets me perfectly free. 

For years my will wrestled with vague discontent, 
That like a sad angel o'ershadowed my way ; 

God's light in my soul oft with darkness was blent ; 
And my heart ever longed for an unclouded day. 

My wild will was captured, yet under the yoke 
There was pain, and not peace, at the press of the 
load, 

Till the glorious burden the last fiber broke, 
And I melted like wax in the furnace of God. 

And now I have flung myself recklessly out, 
Like a chip on the stream of the Infinite will ; 

I pass the rough rocks with a smile and a shout, 
And I just let my God His dear purpose fulfill. 

259 



THE BONDAGE OF LO VE. 

1 care not for self; all my blisses and pains 
I gladly yield up to the mandate above ; 

My crosses and triumphs, my losses and gains, 
I bury them all in the vortex of love. 

And now my King Jesus has all his own way, 
1 wait but to catch his low whispering word ; 

^Tis my bliss to lie low 'neath his scepter's bright sway, 
For my triumph I see in each step of my Lord. 

Forever I choose the good will of my God, 
Its holy, deep riches to love and to know ; 

The serfdom of love doth so sweeten my rod, 
That its touch maketh rivers of honey to flow. 

Roll on, checkered seasons, bring smiles or bring tears, 
My soul sweetly sails on an infinite tide ; 

I shall soon touch the shore of eternity's years, 
And near the white throne of my Savior abide. 

— George D. Watson. 



HE little I have seen in the world teaches me to 
look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in 
anger. When I take the history of one poor 
heart that has sinned and suffered, and represent to my- 
self the struggles and temptations it has passed through, 
the brief pulsation of joy, the feverish inquietude of 
friends, I would fain leave the erring soul of my fellow 
man with Him from whose hand it came. 

— Longfellow. 



260 



H GM870/RER 8EGURE0, 

YOUNG man in a dry goods store in Boston was 
endeavoring to sell a customer some goods. He 
had a quantity on hand which he much desired to 
dispose of, as they were not of the freshest style, and 
the man seemed inclined to take them. 

When the goods had been examined, and the bargain 
was about to be concluded, the customer inquired: 

"Are these goods the latest style ?" 

The young man hesitated. He wanted to sell the 
goods, and it appeared evident that if he said they were 
the latest style the man would take them. But he could 
not tell a lie and he replied : 

"They are not the latest style, but they are very good 
style." ' 

The man looked at him, examined some other goods 
of later styles, and said : 

"I will take those of the older style, and some of the 
new also. Your honesty in stating the facts will fasten 
me to this place." 

The man not only sold his goods and kept a good 
conscience, but he also retained a good customer whom 
he might never have seen again if he had not spoken 
to him the exact truth. There is no permanent gain in 
falsehood and deception. 

Righteousness and truth are a sure foundation. 



261 



GIVE fl |HJW0 T© Y0UR BR0T0ER, 

IVE a hand to your brother 

Wrestling with wind and wave, 
Eagerly help another — 

You are saved that you may save ! 

Heavily seas are breaking 

O'er his drooping form, 
Hope, is his heart forsaking, 

Help ! warriors of the storm ! 

Out of the depths of sorrow 

Calls he with bitter cry, 
Wait for no other morrow, 

But grasp him ere he die ! 

Cometh no shining angel 

In swift unwearied flight, 
With the voice of the glad evangel 

Down from the courts of light ? 

Hearts and hands that are human 

In pitying haste must move ; 
Throw out the rope of promise, 

Draw him with cords of love ! 

Give a hand to your brother 
Wrestling with wind and wave, 

Eagerly help another 

You are saved that you may save ! 

— C. T. Carisbrooke. 



262 



RBV16E @p A gUEE|i 

N English embassador to one of the great eastern 
empires had the misfortune to lose his wife while 
she was performing the gracious duties of her high 
office. The bereaved nobleman — one of the most dis- 
tinguished of living diplomatists — was so stricken 
by his loss that he felt the need of having his two 
daughters by his side ; but these were young girls in 
school in far-off England. Unable to endure the 
gloom cast over the magnificent embassy by the death 
of its mistress, the embassador sailed for home to bring 
his daughters eastward. 

On the eve of their departure from England for the 
country in which her father held official position, the 
elder of the girls was surprised by an invitation to lunch 
with Queen Victoria. 

Lady Mary — as we will call her — was a true-hearted 
English girl, and had many of the high ideals of her 
dead mother. 

After the lunch the queen led her into a private room, 
and taking her hands said : 

"Lady Mary, you are leaving England to take at your 
father's side your mother's place in the high position 
which he holds." 

The girl flushed with surprise, for this was the first 
intimation she had received of the real nature of her 
future. That she must fulfill the difficult and delicate 
public duties falling to the wife of an embassador had 

263 



ADVICE OF A QUEEN, 

not been explained to her. She made a gesture of 
appeal, which the queen checked. 

"You are the same age I was," continued the queen, 
gravely, "when I was called to the duties of a queen of 
England. I do not expect you at once to do all that 
your mother was able to do. She was one of the 
rarest flowers of England, I shall not advise you about 
this duty or that in detail. Knowledge will come with 
the every-day requirements of the position. But I wish 
you to carry out with you one suggestion from me, 
which I hope you will not forget. You will meet many 
people, my dear, whom you will not understand, and 
many whom you cannot love. Bury the bad in people, 
and always seek for the good. Do this, and with the 
intelligence and good judgment which I am sure you 
have, England will soon honor you as she has honored 
your mother." 

The queen kissed the girl gently upon her forehead, 
and the interview was soon closed. 

It is not hard to understand why the people of Eng- 
land love their queen, when we hear such true incidents 
of her life as this. 

Lady Mary went forth with her father to her high 
duties and large opportunities for doing good or ill. A 
recent resident of the empire, who has had every social 
opportunity for acquaintance with the embassador's 
family and with the most exclusive drawing-rooms of its 
capital, lately told the writer that the career of this 
young girl in embassadorial circles had been a remark- 
able one. The queen's personal advice had evidently 
done much toward crystalizing a naturally fine character 

264 



CUMBERED WITH SERVING. 



into one of uncommon strength and usefulness. Such 
an earnest and devout young life in diplomatic society 
made it natural for men and women brought into con- 
tact with it to be the best, and to do the best. Even 
the most unpromising attache became a better man for 
meeting her. He had to, for her white hands " buried 
the bad," and kept alive the " good" in him. 

Victoria's advice was both queenly and womanly. It 
touched the sources of a royal truth. The christian 
queen knew well the power of a pure, divinely-influ- 
enced life, that seeks in human hearts only that which 
is good and true. Her own life has exemplified it. 



GIBBERED WITH SERVING. 

HE was cumbered with serving ; — the household, the 
board, 
The meal to be mingled, the feast to be spread, — 
So she could not sit still at the feet of the Lord 
Though her spirit was faint for the heavenly bread. 

She was cumbered with serving ;. the quick tones grew 
sharp; 

There were lines on her brow, there was grief in her eyes ; 
And no time could she spare for the sweet thrilling harp,. 
Or the hymn that should gently as incense arise. 

She was cumbered with serving ; she marveled indeed 
That any could rest while the work must be done, 

The work that was pressing, since days with such speed. 
Fled on till night and the fall of the sun. 

265, 



CUMBERED WITH SE FIFING. 

She was cumbered with serving ; the dear Lord was there, — 
She could touch Him, could call Him, could bend at 
His knee ; 

Yet this was the whole of her querulous prayer : 
"O Master, my sister, wilt Thou bid her help me ?" 

Ah ! Martha of Bethany, many there be 

Who are cumbered like thee with earth's service this day. 
And fettered and weary and fretted like thee 

They go to the master and bitterly pray. 

And some of them, matrons, are tired of steps 

All over the house from morn till the eve, 
And some of them, mothers, are pale to the lip-, 

With the tasks they must do or the tasks they must leave. 

And their comfort it is, when the great tears well up, 
And the soul with endeavor and longing is spent, 

That the Lord has compassion, who sees their life's cup 
So dark with the brewing of hot discontent. 

And his "Cumbered with serving," although it reprove, 
And stir them with shame, hath a pitiful tone, 

And they hear through its tender reproach the Christ's love 
That never lets slip from its clasping, his own. 

— Margaret E. Sangster. 



Doing, not dreaming, is the secret of success. Think- 
ing out plans will not amount to anything unless the 
thought be followed by a determined will to execute. 



266 



GH11^0 W S0RR0W. 

(Ip[HILD of sorrow, murmur not, 

Thy sorrow soon will cease ; 
Angels are waiting for thy soul 
At that celestial place. 

I know thy burden has been great, 

Thy body sore oppressed, 
But Christ is waiting at the gate 

To call thee to thy rest. 

God wants his jewels bright, 
All polished bright and fine ; 

He will not give one stroke too much, 
His love is all divine. 

•'Dear Lord, I murmur not, 
Thy blessed will be done ; 

I know my burden has been great, 
But not like thy dear Son. 

He died that I might live, 
And there with Him abide ; 

O, precious Jesus, holy name, 
My soul is satisfied. 

I know that I am His, 

He fills my soul with love ; 

I know my name is written there, 
In those bright realms above. " 



267 



# G0WJ10MPLHGE GtH|LI3. 

ijjARY'S a commonplace child," they say, 
flfiffi P raism §" Roberta, Robert and Ray ; 
^58^ ''Maurice and Ellen are smart as steel ; 

Bertha is handsome, and so is Neal ; 

The baby's a cherub, so sweet and mild ! 

But Mary is such a commonplace child !" 

Yet mirth and brilliancy seldom heed 

A dusty chair or a button's need, 

And beauty oft times wears a frown 

If given the task of mending a gown ; 

And the mother sighs, in a disheartened way, 

Thinking the children grow worse each day. 

But the freckle-faced girl, who at books is slow, 
Runs upstairs, downstairs, to and fro, 
Dresses the baby, the table sets, 
Washes the dishes and feeds the pets ; 
And mother, resting, from cares beguiled, 
Thanks God for Mary her commonplace child. 

— Emma C. Dowd. 



WHAT fl MTT^E GIRli 1310. 

GOOD many years ago a little girl of twelve 
years of age was passing an old brick prison 'n 
the city of Chicago, on her way to school, when 
she saw a hand beckoning from behind a cell window 

268 



THE HIDDEN TALENT. 



and heard a voice asking her to please bring him some- 
thing to read. 

For many weeks after she went to the prison every 
Sunday, carrying the poor prisoner a book to read 
from her father's library. At last one day she was 
called to his death-bed. 

"Little girl," said he, "you have saved my soul; 
promise me that you will do all your life for the poor 
people in prison what you have done for me." 

The little girl promised, and she kept her promise. 
Linda Gilbert has been all her life the steadfast friend 
of the prisoner. She has established good libraries in 
many prisons, and visited and helped hundreds of 
prisoners; and from the great number whom she has 
helped, six hundred are now, to her certain knowledge, 
leading honest lives. Prisoners from all parts of the 
country know and love her name, and surely the God 
of prisoners must look upon her work with interest. 

And all this because a little girl heard and heeded the 
call to help a suffering soul. 



THE i^bbem 7AI1EN7, 

JHOU wicked and slothful servant," the text, 
M And then it was lost, what he said next, 
^?J F or W ell I knew the whole of that tale, 
How the master had come, and my heart did quail 
As I thought of my own talent hidden away 
Where it had Jain for many a day. 
I had tenderly wrapped, and laid it with care 
Away from my sight, and then, without prayer, 
Had gone on my way, and entirely forgot ; 



269 



THE PRICE OF A DRINK. 



Though at the time I intended not 

To leave it so long : Oh, what if my Master 

Should suddenly come, and my heart beat faster 

As the solemn thought with awful fear 

Came to my mind, perhaps he is near ! 

I knew full well when I laid it down, 

And I little thought I should lose my crown. 

But now I could see with awful force 

The folly of such a foolish course. 

Oh, preachers be true ! The whole truth teach, 

Thou knowest not what heart it may reach. 

God's judgments, and justice, help make up the whole, 

And the faithful watchman delivers his soul. 



THE PRISE 0[? « BRINK. 

^IVE cents a glass !" Does anyone think 
H That is really the price of a drink ? 
' Five cents a glass," I heard you say, 
" Why, that isn't very much to pay." 
Ah, no, indeed, 'tis a very small sum 
You are passing over 'twixt finger and thumb, 
And if that were all you gave away 
It wouldn't be very much to pay. 

The price of a drink ! let him decide 

Who has lost his courage, and manhood's pride; 

And lies a groveling heap of clay, 

Not far removed from a beast to-day. 

The price of a drink ! let that one tell 

Who sleeps to-night in a murderer's cell, 

And feels within the fires of heM. 



Honor and virtue, love and truth, 
All the glory and pride of youth, 



270 



THE PRICE OB A BRINK. 

Hopes and manhood, the wreath of fame, 
High endeavor and noble aim. 
These are the, treasures thrown away 
For the price of a drink from day to day. 

" Five cents a glass !" How Satan laughed 
As over the bar the young man quaffed 
The beaded liquor, for the demon knew 
The terrible work that drink would do ! 
And before morning the victim lay 
With his life-blood swiftly ebbing away, 
And that was the price he paid, alas ! 
For the pleasure of taking a social glass. 

The price of a drink ! If you care to know 
What some are willing to pay for it, go 
Through that wretched tenement over there, 
With dingy windows and broken stair, 
Where foul disease like a vampire crawls 
With out-stretched wings o'er the mouldy walls. 

There poverty dwells with her hungry brood 
Wild-eyed as demons, for lack of food ; 
There shame, in a corner crouches low ; 
There violence deals its cruel blow ; 
The innocent ones are thus accursed 
To pay the price of this endless thirst. 

" Five cents a glass !" Oh, if that were all, 
The sacrifice would indeed be small ! 
But the cost in coin is the least amount 
We pay ; and whoever will keep account 
Will learn the terrible waste and blight 
That follows this ruinous appetite. 
"Five cents a glass ! Does any one think 
That this is all one pays for a drink ?" 



271 



m 60MM0N PE0PLE. 

^[ OMEONE remarked in the hearing of Abraham 
Lincoln, when he was President of the United 
States, that he was quite a common-looking man. 
"Friend," he replied, gently, "the Lord loves common- 
looking people best. That is why he made so many of 
them." We read that the "Common-people" heard 
Jesus gladly. He made his teaching so plain and at- 
tractive to them that the uneducated masses fully under- 
stood, and appreciated it accordingly. Never, however, 
did the Saviour speak of his brothers and sisters as 
common-people. He knew not only what was in man 
generally, but what was in each individual. He does 
not think of men in masses and crowds, but as individ- 
uals, each having a precious soul with joys and sorrows 
all its own, and a most interesting and quite a unique 
life-history. "What God has cleansed call not thou com- 
mon." If there are any "common people" it is the 
thoughtless ones who use this phrase when speaking of 
others. 



MY GR0W|1 




>iY crown is in my heart, and not my head ; 
| Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, 

Nor to be seen ; my crown is called content ; 

A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. 

— Shakespear. 



272 



WtfflT 70 te«6H bur daughters, 

>T a social gathering some one proposed this ques- 
tion, ''What shall I teach my daughter?" The 
following replies were handed in: 

Teach her that one hundred cents make a dollar. 

Teach her to arrange both parlor and library. 

Teach her to say "no" and mean it, or "yes" and 
stick to it. 

Teach her to wear a calico dress and wear it like a 
queen. 

Teach her how to sew on buttons, darn stockings 
and mend gloves. 

Teach her to dress for health and comfort as well as 
for appearance. 

Teach her to cultivate flowers and to keep the kitch- 
en garden — combining the useful and ornamental. 

Teach her to make her room the neatest room in the 
house. 

Teach her to have nothing to do with intemperate or 
dissolute young men. 

Teach her that tight-lacing is uncomely, as well as 
injurious to the health. 

Teach her to regard the morals and habits, and not 
money, in selecting her associates. 

Teach her to observe the old rule — "A place for 
everything, and everything in its place." 

Teach her that music, drawing and painting are real 
accomplishments in the home, and are not to be neglect- 
ed if there be time and money for their use. 

273 



LET GOD CONTROL. 



Teach her that a good, steady, church-going 
mechanic, farmer, clerk or teacher, without a cent, is 
worth more than forty loafers or non-producers in 
broadcloth. 

Teach her to embrace every opportunity for reading, 
and to select such books as will give her the most use- 
ful and practical information in order to make the best 
progress in earlier as well as in later home and school 
life. 

LET G0I3 60M7ROL 

fNEED some oil, said an ancient Monk, so he plant- 
ed an olive sapling. 

"Lord," he prayed, "it needs rain that its tender 
roots may drink and swell. Send gentle showers." 
And the Lord sent a gentle shower. 

"Lord," prayed the Monk, "My tree needs sun. 
Send sun, I pray Thee." And the sun shone, gilding 
the dripping clouds. 

"Now frost, my Lord, to brace its tissues," cried the 
Monk. And behold the little tree stood sparkling with 
frost. But at evening it died Then the Monk sought 
the cell of a brother Monk and told his strange experi- 
ence. 

"I too have planted a little tree," he said, "and see! 
it thrives well. But I entrust my tree to its God. 
He who made it knows better what it needs than a man 
like me. I laid no condition. I fixed not ways or 
means. "Lord send it what it needs," I prayed, — 
"storm or sunshine, wind, rain, or frost. Thou hast 
made it and Thou dost know." 

274 



[7EEMNG RE8P0NS1BIMTY. 

JHE work of a great many men and women is im- 
|f paired in quality and diminished in force by an ex- 
^ cessive sense of responsibility. There are a 
great many people whose work lies in a department, 
but whose sense of responsibility is extended to cover 
the whole sphere of action. Their specific duty is to 
do a particular thing, and to do it with all the power 
and skill they possess, but they spend their strength in 
nervous anxiety with regard to the work in other de- 
partments for wmich they have no direct responsibility. 
It is very easy to make the sense of responsibility ty- 
rannical, and to defeat the very end for which it is given. 
When this sense becomes so intense and pressing that 
it no longer leaves the man or woman free to do the 
best work in the best way, it is abnormal. There are 
hosts of men and women to-day whose power of doing 
good is seriously diminished by their painful solicitude 
for their fellow-men. They bear the whole burden of 
the world upon their shoulders; all the misery of 
humanity rests upon their hearts and they are saddened 
and sickened by a sense of their own inability to deal 
with great problems, to right great wrongs, and to lift 
great burdens. This is not only a great mistake, but, 
in a way, it shows a taint of skepticism, it involves a 
distrust of God. George MacDonald has portrayed 
this state of mind in one of his best-known stories, in 
which a man of great earnestness and of heroic temper 

275 



FEELING RESPONSIBILITY. 



is so overcome by his consciousness of human misery 
and of the crying needs of the world that he is really 
unfitted for duty. It is pointed out to him at last that 
he is not only doing his own work, but trying to do 
God's work also; that God is responsible for the uni- 
verse, and not man; and all that any man is re- 
sponsible for, is the work that he personally can do 
under the most favorable conditions. To do that work 
thoroughly one must have cheer, courage and the en- 
tire command of one's forces. To waste these pre- 
cious things, through a general feeling of the vastness 
of the problem and the inadequacy of a man to deal 
with it, is to call God's judgment into question and to 
doubt His power to direct His own world. Life is 
made up, not only of works, but of faith, and no man 
can do the work of this day with the highest efficiency 
who does not surround his own special task with an in- 
vigorating and exhaustible atmosphere of faith. If we 
perform the duty laid before us, and do the work as- 
signed us, God will take care of the rest of the world. 
We have no right to paralyze ourselves by attempting 
to add His work to our own. 



2fF a civil word or two will render a man happy, he 
11 must be wretched indeed who will not give them to 
^ him. Such a disposition is like lighting another 
man's candle by one's own, which loses none of its bril- 
liancy by what the other gains. 



276 



'HE .D0ETH BliL THINGS WELL" 

=ES, blessed Lord, thou doest, 
9& Thou doest all things well ; 
^^ Thou maketh both the deaf to hear, 
The dumb thy goodness tell. 

Unloose our tongues, dear Lord, 

Help us to speak for thee ; 
Help us to speak, and plainly speak 

Of the love that makes us free. 

Open our ears, dear Lord, 

The dullness all remove ; 
May we thy slightest whisper hear, 

The whispers of thy love. 

He doeth all things well, 

Lord, help us to believe, 
That what is best for us to have 

Thou wilt freely give. 

And though we cannot see it now, 

We shall hereafter know 
All that the Lord has done for us, 

It was best it should be so. 

— A. M. Vough. 




277 



THE piiLY ©P 7 |?L«TTERY. 

fO seek through the flattery of another to win them 
mW to friendship, is both unchristian in its religious 
^ phases, and unwise as an attempted stroke of 
worldly policy. It is something like a heart sickening 
and really disgusting fact that some professed christians 
descend to these seriously questioned methods which 
appeal to the pride and vanity of another as a means of 
courting their approval. This is done when the gifts 
and graces of another are over-rated in order to enlist 
his personal favor. To deliberately present to another 
that his abilities are of a high order, and that there 
must, from that fact, be a sublime future before him, 
when, in the judgment of the flatterer, his capacities 
are no higher than the average, is before the Lord but 
bare-faced falsification, prompted by a debased and 
sordid selfishness. Such friends won by such falsehood 
are very sure to prove false. It is well to express 
honest appreciation of merit where there is merit, and 
where there is evident grace to bear the commendation, 
but this unhallowed method of flattering conceits into 
an increase of pride and pomp, when their need is the 
crucifixion of the inordinate elements of pride still re- 
maining, is a snare in which, the devil befools by twos — 
the flattered and the flatterer. 



What is really best for us lies always in our reach, 
though often overlooked. 

278 



THE MORTAGE 0N THE ?nm. 

IS gone at last, and I am glad; it stayed a fearful 
while, 
^P And when the world was light and gay, I could not 

even smile ; 
It stood before me like a giant, outstretched its iron arm ; 
No matter where I looked, I saw the mortgage on the farm. 

I'll tell you how it happened, for I want the world to know, 
How glad I am this winter day whilst earth is white as 

snoiv ; 
I'm just as happy as a lark. No cause for rude alarm 
Confronts us now, for lifted is the mortgage on the farm. 

The children they were growing up and they were smart 

and trim, 
To some big college in the east we'd sent our youngest, 

Jim; 
And every time he wrote us, at the bottom of his screed 
He'd tack some Latin fol-de-rol which none of us could 

read. 

The girls they ran to music, and to painting and to rhymes, 
They said the house was out of style and far behind the 

times ; 
They suddenly diskivered that it didn't keep 'em warm — 
Another step, of course, toward a mortgage on the farm. 

We took a cranky notion, Hannah Jane and me, one day, 
While we were coming home from town, talking all the 
way ; 

279 



THE MORTGAGE ON THE FARM, 



The old house wasn't big enough for us, although for years 
Beneath its humble roof we'd shared each others joys and 
tears. 



We built it o'er, and when 'twas done, I wish you could 

have seen it, 
It was a most tremendous thing — I really didn't mean it ; 
Why, it was big enough to hold the people of the town, 
And not half as cozy as the old one we pulled down. 

I bought a fine pianner and it shortened still the pile, 

But, then, it pleased the children and they banged it all 

the while ; 
No matter what they played for me, their music had no 

charm, 
For every tune said plainly : "There's a mortgage on the 

farm ! " 

I worked from morn till eve, toiled as often toils the slave,. 
To meet the grizzly interest ; I tried hard to be brave, 
And oft when I came home at night, with tired brain and 

arm, 
The chickens hung their heads : they felt the mortgage on 

the farm. 

We saved a penny now and then ; we laid them in a row, 
The girls they played the same old tunes, and let the new 

ones go ; 
And when from college came our Jim, with laurels on his. 

brow, 
I led him to the stumpy field and put him to the plow. 

He something said in Latin, but I didn't understand. 
It did me good to see his plow turn up the dewy land ; 

280 



GOD'S LOVE. 

And when the year had ended and empty were the cribs,. 
We found we'd hit that mortgage, sir, a blow between the 
ribs. 

To-day I harnessed up the team and thundered off to town, 
And in the lawyer's sight I planked the last bright dollar 

down ; 
And when I trotted up the lane, a feelin' good and warm, 
The old red rooster crowed his best : " No mortgage on 

the farm !" 

I'll sleep almighty good to-night, the best for many a day, 
The skeleton that haunted us has passed fore'er away ; 
The girls can play the brand new tunes with no fears to 

alarm, 
And Jim can go to congress with no mortgage on the farm. 

— T. C. Harbaugh. 



m% L0VE. 

||TANDING on the top of the Cheviot Hills, a little- 
son's hand enclosed in his, a father taught the 
measure of the measureless love of God. Point- 
ing northward over Scotland, then southward over- 
England, then eastward over the German Ocean, then 
westward over the limitless hill and dale, and then 
sweeping his hand around the whole circling horizon,, 
he said: "Johnny, my boy, God's love is as big as all 
that!" 

"Why, father," the boy cheerily replied, with spark- 
ling eyes, "then we must be in the very middle of it." 



281 



THEY PWLEI3 7© 0B8ERVE. 

^ENTLEMEN, you do not use your faculties of ob- 
f servation," said an old professor, addressing his 
class. Here he pushed forward a gallipot contain- 
ing a chemical of exceedingly offensive smell. ' ( When 
I was a student," he continued, "I used my sense of 
taste," and with that he dipped his finger in the galli- 
pot and then put his finger in his mouth. "Taste it, 
gentlemen; taste it," said the professor, "and exercise 
your preceptive faculties." The gallipot was pushed 
toward the reluctant class, one by one. The students 
resolutely dipped their fingers into the concoction, and, 
with many a wry face, sucked the abomination from 
their fingers. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," said the pro- 
fessor, "I must repeat that you do not use your facul- 
ties of observation, for if you had looked more closely 
at what I was doing, you would have seen that the 
finger I put in my mouth, was not the finger I dip- 
ped in the gallipot." 



THE HIGHLY FW8HEB a* 

MBfjHERE are you going with that fine ax my boy?" 
WiWB "Going out chopping." "You have got your 
^ ax in pretty nice shape?" "Yes, I have polish- 
ed the handle until it is as smooth as glass. On 
one side of the blade you see I have an exquisite oil 
painting. The end of the handle, as you see, is ex- 

282 



THE HIGHLY FINISHED AX. 



quisitely carved, and all together, I flatter myself I 
have a very highly finished ax." 

"Then I suppose you have ground it so that it has 
a fine cutting edge?" 

"N — no — I didn't have time to sharpen it." "But 
how do you expect to cut wood with it, if you haven't 
sharpened it?" "Why, I expect it will wear itself 
sharp." "So it may, but it will wear you out at the 
same time. Why on earth didn't you prepare your ax 
for the use you intended to make of it instead of put- 
ting in so much time polishing and ornamenting it?" 

"Well, if you must know, I prepared my ax for its 
work on the same plan that I prepared myself for my 
work in life." 

"I devoted six years of my life to the study of 
branches that would polish and refine, and when I 
graduated I could call myself an educated idiot in six 
different languages, but I couldn't write legibly, couldn't 
draw up a receipt in proper form, and didn't know the 
first principle of book-keeping." 

' 'I expect to get some practical ideas pounded into me 
by the hard knocks of experience, but I don't know but 
I made a mistake in not grinding my talents in a prac- 
tical school where, when I graduated I would be quali- 
fied for the actual work of life. As it is, I am a polish- 
ed, decorated, edgeless ax; but one consolation is I've 
got lots of company, for the world is full of us." 



Not bad luck, but bad judgment; not ill conditions, 
but ill thinking make life a failure. 



283 



M8 17. 

ip^AS the liquor traffic ever built a church, asylum, or 
endowed a college? 
Has it ever set a standard of business character 
which is recognized in banks and counting-rooms? 

Has it ever made a wife happier than she would be 
with a sober husband? 

Has it ever led a youth up into noble manhood? 

Has it ever paid its own way as a revenue returner? 

Has it ever lessened crimes and criminals? 

No, no! Then has it not been weighed and found 
wanting, and condemned as a malfactor? 

Dare you sustain such an agency, and claim to be a 
good citizen? 



BE TRUE. 

FRIEND, or foe, or lover, 

Be true ! 
Though none thy faith discover, 
Be true ! 
Though men should mock thee for thy pains 
And wreck thy work and wrest thy gains, 
Be true, be true ! 

'Mid youth's seducing pleasures 

Be true ! 
'Mid manhood's golden treasures 

Be true ! 

284 



BE TRUE. 

When age is dulling every sense, 
And tempting to indifference, 
Be true, be true ! 

When all is fair around thee, 

Be true ! 
When health and hope have crowned thee, 

Be true ! 
When quick the pulse and full the life, 
And strength rejoices in the strife, 

Be true, be true ! 



When doubt and dread o'ertake thee, 

Be true ! 
Though all the world forsake thee, 

Be true ! 
Should sickness smite thee in thy bed, 
Or speed thy dearest to the dead, 

Be true, be true ! 

When night is blackest o'er thee, 

Be true ! 
When yawns the grave before thee, 

Be true ! 
When God gleams downward from the height, 
And opens out the infinite, 

Be true, be true ! 

—John Hall Ingham. 



One good act done to-day is worth a thousand in 
contemplation for some future time. 



285 




THE DEVI'S |?0UR SERVANTS- 
HE Devil has a great many servants. They are 
all busy and in all places. Some are so vile look- 
^ J ing that one instinctively turns from them in dis- 
gust ; but some are so sociable, insinuating and plaus- 
ible, that they almost deceive at times the very elect. 
Among this latter class are to be found the Devil's four 
chief servants. Here are their names: 
"There's no Danger!" 
"Only this Once." 
■"Everybody Does So." 
-'By and By." 

All four are cheats and liars. They mean to deceive 
you and cheat you out of Heaven, and they will do it if 
you will listen to them. 



PEAR. 

'EAR hath torment," saith the apostle. Some 
christians are paralyzed for life by the mono-mania 

of fear. They fear to pray in public. They fear 
to be singular for right. They are afraid to give to the 
Lord's cause lest they come to want. They fear to re- 
buke a brother for his fault. They fear to confess 
Christ before men. They are afraid to leave the old 
church or party that has left the truth. They are afraid 
to espouse a good cause where it is not popular. They 

286 



WHAT I LOVE. 

fear shadows and, fail to secure the substance. They 
are like the invalid afflicted with the delusion that he 
was made of brittle clay, and if struck, would snap into 
fragments. He was cured by a friend deliberately up- 
setting him from his carriage, when he arose from the 
ground sound in mind as well as body. The cure for 
a foolish fear is faith and a forced obedience of duty. 
Just as there is one cure for selfishness — self-sacrifice; 
as there is one cure for spiritual laziness — work, there 
is one cure for timidity, and that is to plunge into a dis- 
agreeable duty before the ague shiver has time to come 
on. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with 
thy might." 



M LOVE the Lord with all my heart ; 
m I love to do his will ; 
^s- I love the gentle voice which says, 
In trouble, "Peace be still." 

I love to walk as Jesus walked, 

Along the narrow way ; 
I love to know his Spirit guides 

My footsteps day by day. 



I love to follow where he leads ; 

I love the truth, the light ; 
I love to bring His kingdom nigh ; 

I love for God to fight. 

287 



WHAT I LOVE. 

I love to hear the sinner's cry — 

"Oh Lord, my sins forgive ! " 
I love to hear them testify, 

When pardon they receive. 

My life is love; I'll tell you why, 

Perhaps you think it strange, 
But God is love, He dwells within, 

'Twas He who wrought the change. 

For once I loved the world and sin ; 

I love them now no more ; 
My love is changed to higher things, 

My Saviour I adore. 

Oh, ye who live for self and ease, 

There's something nobler far ; 
Come, cast your all at Jesus' feet, 

He'll help you love the war. 

He'll give you grace just as you need ; 

He'll help you all the way ; 
And victory's sure if only you 

Let perfect love have sway. 

— Lucy M. Dews. 



OOD resolutions are often like loosely tied cords 
| — on the first strain of temptation they slip. They 
should be tied in a hard knot of prayer. And 
they should be kept tight; tight and firm by constant 
stretching Godward. If they slip, or break, tie them 
again. 

288 



F we have divine life within us we can easily recover 

from all wounds the world can give us. Wear the 
^ skin from your hand and it grows on again, but 
wear a hole in your glove and it needs a patch to cover 
it. When christians are killed by persecution it is not 
of ill-treatment they die, but from lack of vitality. 
Christ within us readily repairs all the damage Satan 
can do us from without. Winter strips the trees of 
their beauty; but if they are full of life, spring covers 
them with leaves and blossoms. We may, by false ac- 
cusation, be robbed of reputation and of friends for a 
season; but if Christ's throne is mantained in our hearts, 
his royal courtiers will rally around it again. It does 
not promise us exemption from trials, but victory over 
trials. 

If the heart is weak all the motions are slow. When 
the pulse of the athlete fails, it does not require a blow 
to prostrate him, but he falls of his own weight. 

One who gets inward vigor does not need to be 
urged by others. A little boy, full of life, confined for 
the first time in the schoolroom, when asked by the 
teacher why he whistled, said, "It whistled itself." 
Have the mind of Christ and you will do the work of 
Christ. When the works of a clock are in order you 
are not obliged every few minutes to put the hands in 
the right place. Take more pains to have the heart 
right with God, and you will have less trouble in keep- 

289 



WHAT AN UNHEALTHY BOOK WILL DO. 

ing the life right. "Out of the abundance of the heart 
the mouth speaketh." 

Hate vain thoughts and you will not utter vain 
words. Have tender love for your brethren and you 
will not hold them up to ridicule. Keep alive to God 
and you will not lay the foundation for repentance from 
dead works. 



WPT M UNHEALTHY B00K Willi! 00. 

f\OW, I ask why will women buy these books? I 
will not say that they are doing it intentionally; 
most likely it is due to thoughtlessness. But in 
nothing can thoughtlessness work more injury than in 
the selection of books. Our whole natures are mould- 
ed by what we read. Let a woman read books of an 
unhealthy character, and she is bound to be influenced 
by them. No person living ever escaped the memory 
of a bad book. I know a woman who in girlhood read 
a novel in which sin was the predominant characteristic. 
Since then she has read hundreds of books by the 
masters of literature, and filled her mind with their best 
and most elevating thoughts. 

But has the impression made by that one book, read 
when she was a girl, ever been effaced? I quote her 
own words to me: "Although I have lived nearly 
sixty years since I read that book, and have associated 
continually through all that subsequent period with the 
purest minds in literature, I have never been able to 
forget that book. Day after day it comes back to me, 

290 



THE PRESENT NEED. 

and I would give to-day half of my fortune if the im- 
pression left by that story could be removed from my 
mind." And in countless hearts will this statement 
find a responsive echo. The mind will oft times throw 
off the impression made by an indecent picture, for in 
art we see vice only in outline; but in a book where 
vice is told us in words — our own instrument of ex- 
pression — the impression is lasting, and its influences 
will be felt through generations. 



THE PRESENT NEED, 

HE crying need of the time is not money, not 
8TO prayer, not preaching, not evangelistic effort; it 
^ is men, men and women, saturated with the spirit 
of Christ; not a few, or even a great many, to go out 
as missionaries and evangelists, but men and women by 
the tens of thousands, by the million, to be Christians, 
to open heart and life to the Spirit's grace; enough of 
them to create an atmosphere absorbing, and retaining, 
and diffusing the light and heat streaming from the Sun 
of Righteousness, to carry in every direction by in- 
numerable channels of irrigation the Water of Life, to 
take up and distribute the vast unused Niagara force, 
the mighty tidal energy which would accomplish all the 
church's work before this generation passed away. 

— J, Munro Gibson. 



291 



PRESS @N! 

SRESS on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 
gfr Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch : 
He fails alone who feebly creeps, 

He wins who dares the hero's march. 
Be thou a hero ! let thy might 

Tramp on eternal snows its way, 
And, through the ebon walls of night, 
Hew down a passage unto day. 

Press on ! if once and twice thy feet 

Slip back and stumble, harder try ; 
From him who never dreads to meet 

Danger and death, they'er sure to fly. 
To coward's ranks the bullet speeds, 

While on their breast who never quail, 
Gleams guardian of chivalric deeds, 

Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 

Press on ! if fortune play thee false 

To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, — 

Taking old gifts and granting new, 
The wisdom of the present hour 

Makes up for follies past and gone : 
To weakness strength succeeds, and power 

From frailty springs — Press on I press on I 

Therefore, press on ! and reach the goal, 

And gain the prize and wear the crown : 
Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul 

Come wealth, and honor, and renown. 
To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth ; thy heart from soil ; 
Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap 

A heavenly harvest for thy toil. 

292 




193 



Grandma I mean to threap your needles ever so nicely to-day." 



TIRESOME. 

M HATE threading needles," said Millicent to herself 
I as she undressed one night, "and yet grandma 
r is always wanting me to do it! I believe she uses 
all these threads on purpose. I wish there were some 
one else beside me to do things. Its Milly here and 
Milly there, all day long." 

The little grumbling girl pulled off her dress with 
vexed fingers, and a button went flying under the chest 
of drawers; and then, instead of looking for it, she 
turned to the table and began to brush her hair. 

Then her eyes fell on the text-book, with her text 
for the day, and she started when she thought how little 
she had remembered it: "Whatsoever ye do, do it 
heartily, as unto the Lord!" 

"Threading needles?" she questioned, blushing as 
she remembered how far from heartily she had perform- 
ed that little task that dull afternoon. 

" 'As to the Lord!' I never thought of that!" she 
exclaimed. "How could I be so horrid? and grandma, 
too! Why, I ought to have done it out of love to her, 
to say nothing of Jesus!" 

She hid her face with her hands. Millicent did love 
Jesus, but, somehow, it was so much easier to please 
herself. 

The next day the little girl stole up to the patient, 
aged one, who had so few pleasures, and, in a little 
gentle voice, said: "Grandma, I mean to thread your 
needles ever so nicely to-day." 



293 




Of/OR. all that God in mercy sends ; 

PFor health and parents, home and friends, 
For comfort in the time of need, 
For every kindly word and deed, 
For happy thoughts and holy talk, 
For guidance in our daily walk, 
For everything give thanks ! 

For beauty in this world of ours, 
For verdant grass and lovely flowers, 
For songs of birds, and hum of bees, 
For the refreshing summer breeze, 
For hill and plain, for streams and wood, 
For the great ocean's mighty flood, 
In everything give thanks ! 

For the sweet sleep which comes with night, 
For the returning morning's light, 
For the bright sun that shines on high, 
For the stars glittering in the sky, 
For these, and everything we see, 
O Lord, our hearts we lift to Thee, 
For everything give thanks ! 

— Ellen Isabell Tupper. 



HE truest test of civilization is not the census, nor 
the size of the cities, nor the crops ; no, but the 
kind of men the country turns out. 



294 



tfUWMTY— WW IS ij. 

|HE first step in religion is humility; the second 
step in religion is humility; the third step in re- 
^ ligion is humility. How can a man repent with- 
out humility? How can a person be obedient to Christ 
without humility? The humble penitent in persever- 
ance is sure to find the mercy of Jesus. Humil- 
ity, O thou gem of pure Christianity! Without it our 
religion is headstrong, fierce, uncontrollable, and vain. 
All our church and personal difficulties arise in the 
absence of humility. 



H@W 70 00 j\\r #08? 6000, 

THE TACT OF TRUE AND CHRISTIAN LOVE IN SERVICE. 

^OVE not only wants to serve, but love will find a 
way of serving. Love is not satisfied until it has 
persevered and planned and changed its ways of 
working indefinitely, to secure success in its purpose 
of helping the loved one. It may be that one can bet- 
ter be helped by indirect suggestions than by plain 
spoken counsel. Finding this to be so, the loving one 
will avoid directness of speech in the line of sound ad- 
vice, and will work with tact and caution and consider- 
ateness, so as to help the other without disturbing him. 
It may be, again, that the positive and earnest advocacy 
of a truth in discussion between two friends tends to set 

295 



HOW TO DO THE MOST GOOD. 



all the firmer against it the one who would like to learn 
the merits of that question, but who can not be taught 
in that way. In such a case the positive and earnest 
man will curb himself in the expression of his convic- 
tions to the friend whom he loves, lest he. so jar upon 
him as to prevent his gaining the good of a discussion 
which is to be desired from it. It is not enough to say 
that both parties ought to study each others ways, and 
come to a common standard of fairness — he who truly 
loves will be glad to go over to the other's standpoint 
of thought and feeling in order to help him, instead of 
claiming the right of meeting halfway. Love is more 
than willing to do all that is needed on both sides in a 
friendship, and true love will find a way of doing it ; 
for it is a necessity, of love to be the mother of inven- 
tion in the proof and expression of its all-prevailing 
potency. 



JI'T is a great mercy to enjoy the gospel of peace, but 
H a greater joy to enjoy the peace of the gospel. 
^ Did you ever feel the joy of winning a soul for 
Christ? I tell you there is no joy out of heaven which 
■excels it — the grasp of the hand of one who says, "By 
your means I was turned from darkness." 

— C. H. Spurgeon. 



The lower down a christian gets the higher up he 
looks. 



296 



;E long for things beyond our reach, 

VKPl ^" nc * waste m sighs an d tears 
[t^PH The golden hours fraught with good 
While listning to our fears. 

We sigh for fame, position, wealth, 

For comfort, and for ease, 
For houses fine adorned with art, 

With everything to please. 

We long for gold for daily use, 

Enough to satisfy 
Real or imagined wants of ours, 

As day by day goes by. 

We fail to see the sunny lights 

Which glint across our way, 
We see not all the golden rays, 

Which brighten every day. 

We fail to gather of life's sweets 

Because of life's unrest ; 
Forget, we see but dimly now, 

God's ways are always best. 

In every path there's something bright, 

Some joy in every cross ; 
And what poor mortal's count as gain 

Is often greatest loss. 

— Mary B. Carter. 



297 



W0RD8 W GBUNSEli 70 Y014NG 60MVER78. 

l^ON'T think you have lost all your religion because 
MJ) you find you have made a mistake in something, 
or conclude that God is dead because the sky turns 
black sometimes. 

God is in the storm as much as he is in the sunshine. 
Make up your mind that you are going to believe in 
God always, no matter what happens. No sensible man 
will tear up his railroad ticket because the train runs 
through a tunnel. 

Determine to be a happy christian whether you have 
a cent in your pocket or not. With God's grace it 
won't take much money to make you rich. 

Don't be a wobbling christian, Keep your eye on 
Christ and you won't have a bit of trouble in keeping 
even in your experience. Adopt a platform that will 
mean loyalty to God always and stand on it. 

Get in the habit of feeling what concerns you. Keep 
in the closest communion with Him by asking and trust- 
ing Him constantly to manage you. 

Never make a plan and leave God out. Make Him 
first in all your undertakings. If you make a mistake, 
instead of sitting down to cry and fret about it, tell God 
all about it, and ask him to overlook it for good. 

Maintain habits of secret prayer, and pray and praise 
while you work, or rest, or think. Ask God to help 
you to love people you don't like. 



298 



KEEP STEADILY 0N. 

ATAN never surrenders. We may think he is de- 
feated. The sound of battle may die away, and 
all may seem calm and peaceful, but the enemy 
still lives, When we do not hear the lion's roar it is 
time to guard against the serpent's wiles. In the high 
day of our prosperity he may be planning some surprise 
which shall result in our overthrow. Our only security 
is constant vigilance, constant fidelity, constant activity, 
constant trust. We must watch and pray, and fight and 
pray, and if we do this we have the help of Him who 
said: "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." 

Above all, let us not be diverted from our work. 
Beware of Satan's feints and stratagems. Keep at 
what the Lord has given you to do. Never leave the 
Lord's work to chase the Devil's rabbits. Let them run. 
It is safer than to undertake to follow them. Do not 
stone the Devil's dogs, let them bark; keep in the mid- 
dle of the road and march boldly on. Many things 
which may seem to demand our instant attention are 
possibly only the tricks and devices of the great de- 
ceiver, who chuckles cs he turns us from our proper 
work, and proceeds to accomplish his own evil purposes. 
If you work the work of God, men will hate you. If 
you fail, men will despise you. If you succeed, they 
will envy you. If you prosper, they will try to sup- 
plant you. Be sober ; be vigilant ; keep a firm hand, 
and keep steadily on. The dust will clear by and by. 
Lies will die, liars will find their level, and the man who 
keeps steadily on will reach the goal at last. 

299 




88 YOU Gi JHR©U6H MFE. 

ON'T look for flaws as you go through life ; 
And even when you find them, 
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind, 
And look for the virtue behind them ; 
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light 

Somewhere in its shadowy hiding ; 
It is better far to hunt for a star, 
Than the spots on the sun abiding. 

The current of life runs ever away 

To the bosom of God's great ocean. 
Don't waste your force 'gainst the river's course 

And think to alter its motion. 
Don't waste a curse on the universe — 

Remember, it lived before you. 
Don't butt at the storm with your puny form — 

But bend and let it go o'er you. 

The world will never adjust itself 

To suit your whims to the letter. 
Some things must go wrong your whole life long, 

And the sooner you know it the better. 
It is folly to fight with the infinite, 

And go under at last in the wrestle. 
The wiser man shapes himself in God's plan 

As the water shapes into a vessel. 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



300 



FT does not require a giant to sow a seed, nor a steam 
shovel or trip-hammer to bury it in the ground. A 
^ little child can drop corn as well as Goliath, and it 
only needs to be covered lightly and gently patted down, 
and then the sunshine and the rain does the rest. 

Just so the good seed of God does not need giants, 
orators or great men to sow it. A word may be spoken 
by a little child; a tract may be dropped by the way- 
side, or enclosed and sent through the mail; a letter 
may be written, and papers may be distributed by the 
feeblest, and so in a multitude of ways, humble, in- 
significant and unknown persons may do work, the im- 
portance of which none but the Lord can measure. 

A few pennies for scriptures or tracts is all the capi- 
tal or stock in trade required to begin, and when these 
are carefully distributed, with prayer for a blessing, 
then a new supply can be obtained, and the work can 
be further extended. Here is something for everyone 
to do, and when once done only the Lord can tell how 
vast and how blessed the results may be. How many 
are there who stand ready to undertake such work as 
this? How many who are saying, "Lord, what wilt 
thou have me to do?" and yet neglecting work which 
is clearly within their reach, within their means, within 
their power, and which can do no hurt, and may do 
great good? 



301 



M WILL frankly tell you that my experience in the pro- 
|] longed scientific investigations convince me that a 
^" belief in God — a God that is behind and within the 
chaos of vanishing points of human knowledge — adds 
a wonderful stimulus to the man who attempts to pene- 
trate into the regions of the unknown. Of myself, I 
may say that I never take the preparations for penetrat- 
ing into some small province of nature hitherto undis- 
covered, without breathing a prayer to the Being who 
hides his secrets only to allure me graciously on to the 
unfolding of them. 

— Prof. Agassie. 



THE SUM RNID THE #|MB. 

THE Sun and the Wind laid a wager one day 
flffe Which would take from a man his cloak away. 
r^» "I've only to blow right strong," said the Wind, 
" And his cloak will go flying far behind." 

"That trick will not work at all," said the Sun ; 
"I know that the wager by me will be won. 
But do your own way, you blust'ring fellow, 
Then I will shine out so warm and yellow, 
I'm sure I will have the best of the joke, 
For quickly the man will drop his old cloak." 

302 



THE SUN AND THE WIND. 

The man jogged along, just humming a song, 
His cloak fast buttoned to keep him warm, 
When, sudden, the Wind blew loud and strong : 
'• Whe-ugh ! Hello ! why, here is a storm !" 
Then closer around him his cloak was drawn — 
Still closer and closer ! With head bent down 
He galloped off fast for the nearest town. 

Then the Sun shone out with its golden smiles ; 
And though it's away up — millions of miles — 
Yet it heard the traveler laugh and say : 
" Good horse, don't hurry the rest of the way ! 

" We'll take it more easy this lovely day ; 

But first let me put this hot cloak away." 

And the cloak came off! And the rest of the ride 

It hung and swung at the horse's side. 

And the Wind hushed down, ashamed to blow, 
But the Sun shone on in a happy glow 
A-singing a song that seemed to say : 
"In a game where it takes the two to play, 
Sunshine gets the better of Wind any day !'' 

MORAL. 

So, boys, and girls too, when you find yourself rusty, 
And fretty and fussy and cross-grained and gusty, 
Just remember the tale of the Wind and the Sun, 
The man and the cloak, and the way it was done ! 



Talk little of your own grievances, or of other's mis 
doings. 



303 



THE GEN1U8 0? PPPREG1^1@^ 

HERE are men and women who have a genius for 
?|!lp drawing the very best out of all their associates. 
A sensitive nature feels unconsciously the personal 
atmosphere of another, and a cynic or a satirist shuts 
up such a nature as completely as the cold or the night 
closes a sensitive flower. In the presence of a cynic or 
satirist, a sensitive person is dumb and helpless. In a 
genial and appreciative atmosphere, however, such a 
nature opens as a closed flower at the touch of the sun. 

There can be no happier function in life than to so act 
upon people that they, think their best, as there can be 
nothing more unfortunate than to silence, paralyze, and 
discourage others. 

This faculty of evoking the best in another is, in its 
way, as rare a kind of genius as the genius of expres- 
sion. It has happened more than once in the history of 
art, that a turbulent, eager, and dumb spirit, struggling 
with itself, has suddenly become clarified and found ex- 
pression in the hope, faith, and love of these appreci- 
ative natures ; and so appreciation has become the 
mother of creation. 

To possess this quality of appreciation, one must have 
a certain purity and elevation of nature. It is impos- 
sible to awaken the ideal in others unless we first pos- 
sess it in ourselves ; impossible to make others believe 
in the best and highest things, unless we ourselves be- 
lieve in those things. Unconscious influence is, after 
all, the greatest and most subtle form of expression. 

304 



THE GENIUS OF APPRECIATION. 



To inspire others when we are not conscious of it, by 
the mere expression of ourselves, has an element of the 
divine in it. It is the overflow of a high nature, which, 
by its mere contact with lesser natures, inspires, builds, 
and enlarges. 

Nothing was more beautiful in Mr. Emerson's char- 
acter than the respect which he paid to every human 
being. It seemed as if he always expected to receive 
from every one he met some new message of life, some- 
thing which should lay him under perpetual obligation. 
He treated everyone not only with courtesy, but with 
the profound respect which one would accord to the 
message of a king. It was very inspiring to others, 
this sort of attention ; but it was preeminently beauti- 
ful in the man himself, and was the lasting evidence of 
the nobility of his soul. 



A Y well is good, but do well is better ; 
Do well seems spirit, say well the letter. 

• Say well is Godly, and helpeth to please, 
But do well lives Godly, and gives the world ease. 
Say well to silence sometimes is bound, 
But do well is free on every ground. 
Say well has friends, some here, some there. 
But do well is welcome everywhere. 
But say well to many God's word cleaves, 
But for lack of do well it often leaves. 
If say well and do well were bound in one frame, 
Then all were done, all were won, and gotten were 
gain. 



305 



BANGER SIGNALS. 

;NE evening not long since as I was coming home 
from town on a different street, I noticed men had 
been digging deep trenches for sewer-pipes, and 
as the work was yet incomplete, they had put up danger 
signals everywhere it seemed people would have any 
trouble in regard to them. 

Of course it is the custom to put up these signals of 
danger wherever a place is known to be unsafe, and I 
had seen a great many of them in my life, but they 
never impressed me like this before. I thought if every 
place in the United States that was known to be un- 
safe, should have a danger signal, it would save not 
only boys and young men, but whole families. 

Every one knows the saloon is unsafe, they know 
the billiard, and card-table, and gambling house is un- 
safe ; but bscause the workman have failed to put up the 
danger signals, many have fallen in, and are so bruised 
it is impossible for them to rise without help. 

Dear reader will you not help to hold the light that 
shall reveal the deep trenches of sin ere some of your 
loved ones are lost? 



MOTHERS GOOD-BYE. 

|IT down by the side of your mother, my boy, 
You have only a moment, I know, 
^>- But you will stay till I give my parting advice, 

'Tis all I have to bestow. 
You leave us to seek for employment, my boy, 

By the world you have yet to be tried ; 
But in all the temptations and struggles you meet, 
May your heart in your Savior confide. 

Hold fast to the right, hold fast to the right, 

Wherever your footsteps may roam ; 
Oh, forsake not the way of salvation, my boy, 

That you learned from your mother at home. 

You'll find in your satchel a Bible, my boy, 

'Tis a book of all others the best ; 
It will teach you to live, it will help you to die, 

And lead to the gates of the blest. 
I gave you to God, in your cradle, my boy, 

I have taught you the best that I knew ; 
As long as his mercy permits me to live, 

I shall never cease praying for you. 

Your father is coming to bid you good-bye ; 

Oh, how lonely and sad we shall be ! 
But when far from the scenes of your childhood and 
youth, 

You'll think of your father and me. 
I want you to feel ev'ry word I have said, 

For it came from the depths of my love ; 
And, my boy, if we never behold you on earth, 

Will you promise to meet us above ?" 



307 



HASTY glance and our eyes caught these words; 
and they went direct to the heart. For days the 
startling contingency has sounded in every voice, 
and gleamed or glared from every page. 

We have heard a father talking to his children; a 
mother praying for her darlings; a wife pleading for 
an unsaved husband; a pastor for his flock; and again 
for the sinful and erring of his parish, and we have said: 
"If it depends on these, all is well." 

We have heard a father's careless and profane words, 
accompanied with a sneer at Christ and His love, and 
all these in the presence of his son; a mother's giddy 
and foolish talk of society and pleasure; a husband's 
bitter fling of words at the gentle and prayerful wife; a 
pastor's neglect of the sheep of the great Shepherd, 
and disregard of the perishing and dying, and we have 
said: Alas! If it depends on these, how sad is the fate 
of souls. 

We have seen the rumseller and the pastor stand 
side by side at the ballot-box and each go his way. 
Meeting a noble youth we could but say: If it depends 
on that ballot, whether you are sober or drunken, how 
sad and uncertain must be your fate. 

Men love money, and lust for power, and plot for 
unholy gain; and if it depends on such as these where 
will the State and nation be a hundred years from now? 



308 



"BRISK" P0MEW3 HBV1GE ?0 P B@Y. 

EJUjY boy, do you realize that each year the grave is 
nearer you than ever before — that unless you are 
^^^ active, the season of life will close before even half 
of your self-allotted contract will have been performed, 
unless, like too many people, you have no aim, no hope,, 
no ambition beyond picking your teeth after dinner? 
Half of the world, yes, more than half, go to the re- 
ception room of eternity without any object in life — as 
driftwood floats down the stream, guided by the current, 
and lodging against the first obstruction. And what is 
driftwood, my boy? Once in a while a good stick of 
timber is found therein but it is generally more work 
to haul it out, clean off the sand and mud, than it is 
worth; and more time and tools are spoiled in making 
it into what you wish than the stick will ever bring, 
even in an active market. 

Have a purpose, my boy. Live for something. 
Make up your mind what you will be, and come to the 
mark, or die in the attempt. This is a land where 
there is no stint to ambition. All have an equal chance. 
Blood tells, pluck wins, honor and integrity well di- 
rected will scale the highest rock, and bear a heavy load 
to its top. Do not start off in life without knowing 
where you are going. Load for the game you are hunt- 
ing. It is as easy to be a man, as to be a mouse. It 
is as easy to have friends as enemies — it is easier to 
have them both than to go through life like a tar bucket 

309 



DON'T GIVE IX. 



under a wagon, bumping over stumps, or swinging 
right and left, without a will of your own. Everyone 
can be something. There is enough to do. There are 
forests to fell, rivers to explore, cities to build, railroads 
to construct, inventions yet to be studied out, ideas to 
advance, men to convert, countries to conquer, women 
to love, offices to be filled, wealth and position to ac- 
quire, a name to win, a Heaven to reach. Yes, my 
boy, there is lots of work to do, and you and I must 
do our share." 



D@NT GIVE IN- 



OYS, when troubles crowd upon you 
(You'll find plenty in this life), 
And when fortune seems to flout you, 
And you're weary with the strife ; 
Then's the time to show your metal ; 

Keep your heads up ; don't give in ; 
Face the trouble, grasp the nettle, 
And determine you will win. 

What's the good of turning craven ? 

That will never gain the fight, 
That will bring you to no haven 

Of success and calm delight. 
No, boys, no ! Be up and doing, 

Put your shoulder to the task ! 
Fortune's shy, and needs pursuing 

If within her smile you'd bask. 

— SOMERVILLE GlBNEY. 



310 



GOD'S WORD. 

j^SVERY s'ncere laborer in God's vineyard has a 
jTOi sense of responsibility in gathering the spiritual 
^ harvest. Jesus, when upon earth, never relieved 
his true followers of their burden. He said : "Go 
work to-day in my vineyard." If the early christians 
had disregarded this command, holding that the salvation 
of the world was not a human task, but was exclusively 
a divine work, the kingdom of Christ would have been 
a failure. God's plan for the recovery of the world 
through regenerated souls would have been set aside 
through men's obduracy and disobedience. 

But there may come an hour in the believer's history 
when he can say : "After all, this is God's work, not 
mine ; " "I have followed the Lord my God ; " " Now, 
therefore, give me this mountain." When the condi- 
tions have been all fulfilled on the human side, as they 
were in the case of believing Caleb, then the soul may 
rest in the divine promise, in the blessed assurance that 
God will bring results to pass in his own time and way. 



''In all thy gettings get understanding. 

If you would kill a slander, let it alone. 

No man repents of having done his duty. 

Threatening a bad habit does not kill it. 

Write benefits on marble, injuries on sand. 

The more a man swears, the easier he is whipped. 

Better break thy word than do worse in keeping it. 



311 



wmmi mgense, high m lbw. 

E agitate the question against license high or low, 
B And oppose the liquor traffic, the Nation's direst foe; 
r"|^rt With printing press and telegraph as agencies for 
Right, 
The moral people of this land will rally for the fight. 

We'll educate the people as the numbers multiply, 
'Till a vote for any party with a license, low or high, 
Will be against the Master, his betrayal as of old, 
Though the thirty silver pieces may increase a hundred 
fold. 

We'll legislate the traffic from the list of lawful trade, 
When the pulpit with the platform will join the new cru- 
sade, 
When a million loyal voters, on whom we can rely, 
Shall stamp with infamy and shame the license, low or 
high. 

We'll exterminate intemperance when we tear the breweries 

down, 
And every liquor seller is driven from the town, 
When beneath our unfurled banner and the vaulted starry 

sky, 
No man can slay his neighbor with a license low or high. 

— George G. Annable. 



*''Home is one thing sweet on earth. But homes are 
built, not of stones, but of hearts." 



312 



JliHE man who is known to be honest, and of sound 
ISW judgment, commands the confidence and resources 
^ of others. While men will not trust a ro^ue out 
of their sight, they confide in the integrity of an honest, 
upright man. He may be in debt ; he may have need 
to borrow ; he may be dependent on the help and good 
will of others ; but so long as he will tell the truth, and 
honestly try to fulfill his engagements, his character 
counts for thousands, and is worth to him more than 
silver or gold. 

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches; 
and a man who does business year after year prudently, 
honestly, and uprightly, will not often lack for helpers 
in time of need or straits. But the man who, for some 
present advantage condescends to cheating, falsehood 
and rascality, will soon find that for a temporary gain 
he has suffered an irreparable loss. His character gone, 
society watches him as it does a thief, and long years 
may elapse before he can recover from the effects of his 
own suicidal act. 

Young man, old man, be honest, faithful and true, and 
if you have no other wealth, let your character be your 
own capital. 



While a word is yet unspoken you are master of it 
when once it is spoken it is master of you. 

3i3 



A BRffVE B@Y. 

OU may come now, Harry! It's seven o'clock, 
and snowing fast," called his mother from the 
^ foot of the stairs. 

"Yes, mother, why didn't you call me before? 
There'll be the paths to sweep before school, and I like 
to do them before breakfast." 

" I thought you were tired, dear, and needed a morn- 
ing nap." 

"Please do not humor me that way, mother. You 
know I am the one to take care of you." 

It did not take Harry long to dress that morning, 
although he did not slight his simple toilet; neither did 
he forget to kneel down and ask God's help upon the 
beginning of the new day; but he was out of bed with 
a bound, and his fingers flew fast. 

"No drones in this hive, are there, mamma?" he said, 
running down stairs and giving his mother a resound- 
ing kiss. " Shall I have time to do anything before 
breakfast?" 

"No, dear; the bell is just going to ring." 

"Excuse me, please, mother this morning," Harry 
said, as he finished before the rest. "I want every- 
thing easy for you before I go to school." 

A happy smile was her only answer, but she said as 
the door closed behind him: 

"Dear boy! I believe that is the motto of his life — 
I want to make things easy for mother. He's never 
too tired or busy to help me. He's solid comfort." 

3H 



A BRAVE BOY. 



"He's solid gold, a boy worth having," said uncle 
Ned. "I wish there were more of them." 

Harry found the broom and began sweeping the snow 
aw r ay on either side of the path with a will. Suddenly 
looking up, he saw a lady watching him across the 
way. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he said, raising his 
cap. "Isn't this a royal morning for work?" 

"I should think so, my dear," she replied. "You 
seem to make easy work of everything. How does it 
happen?" 

"Oh, I don't know, ma'am. Boys ought to be ready 
for anything, I think. Work comes easy to me. I'm 
young and strong, you know." 

"So is Jamie; but he makes a fuss over everything 
he does. I wish he could catch some of your spirit. 
You'll make your mark in the world, if you keep on as 
you've begun, Harry." 

"And I mean to, Mrs. Martin, if God spares my life. 
I must make things easy for mother, you know." 

Mrs. Martin sighed. "I wish Jamie felt so," she 
said. 

"Perhaps he doesn't feel the need of doing, because 
you're rich, Mrs. Martin. We're poor, you know; but 
we sha'n't always be so." And Harry's broom flew 
faster and faster over the frozen ground. 

"Excuse me if I talk and work too," he said. 
' 'Mother needs me in the house before school. I have 
to be a girl and boy, too, you see." 

"Don't you find that pretty hard my child?" 

' 'Oh, no ! I don't like wiping dishes as well as sweep- 

3i5 



A BRAVE BOY. 

ing snow, to be sure; but that's no matter. I never 
stop to think what I like; it's what's got to be done to 
save mother." 

"Bless you, my boy! Don't you ever think of your- 
self?" 

"Oh, yes, indeed; I'm a selfish cub, anyway; but 
I'm trying to do better every day, and it's easier, since 
I ask God to help me before I begin." 

"Are you a Christian, Harry?" 

"Oh, yes'm! I've belonged to the army of the Lord 
just a year, and it's been the happiest year of my life. 
Fighting Satan and sin is great fun when a boy sets 
about it. I don't mean he shall conquer, Mrs. Martin. 
I like to knock him a blow whenever I can. Good 
morning." 

Mrs. Martin stood looking after the brave, bright 
boy, who had already begun to be a blessing to the 
world, until he disappeared from sight. 

"These are the boys who are wanted," she said, 
"these are the boys who are wanted." 

Yes, yes, my dear readers, there are a great many 
such boys in the world. They are not wanted merely 
as snow sweepers, but the merchant and the banker 
want them in their counting houses. 



Disregard or excuse your small fault, and you com- 
mit a greater one. 



The man who works for God gets his pay in advance, 

316 



IVE us our daily bread, we say ; 
ir And look no farther than to-day ; 
* And be to-morrow gray or gold, 
Or plenty, or pinched with cold : 
Thine be to-morrow as to-day ! 

Even as the small bird shall receive 
The food its mother gives, nor grieve 
Lest that to-morrow fail ; so we 
Lifting our lips and hearts to Thee 
Trust Thee for all the days we live. 

Keep us within Thy heart that's wide, 
Thy love our nest in which we hide ; 
Thy thought the wing to fold us in 
All night till the new day begin — 
The day for which Thou wilt provide. 

— Katharine Tynan. 



W m YE SHALL HAVE PEASE. 

MfN me, in me." O, souls for whom Christ died, 

ffli Why will ye restless roam unsatisfied, 

^ O'er barren wastes and mountains dark and wide ? 

All day, behold the blessed shepherd stand 

In pastures green, and stretch his pierced hand, 

Unto the sheep he bought, in every land. 

" Ye will not come ! " the waters flow so still, 
Ye are so thirsty and might drink your fill — 
And still he sayeth — ''whosoever will." 



317 



IN ME YE SHALL HAVE PEACE. 

What is your life ? Complaints that never cease ! 
Sad, weary moanings for far distant peace ! 
'And deeper darkness as the years increase. 

Fears in the way ! — and sometimes well ye know, 
The golden bowl shall break, and ye must go 
Out into utter gloom, from all below. 

Then shall the soul return to him who gave — '■ 

Too late ! Too late ! the sweet Christ who can save 

And welcome now — sits Judge beyond the grave. 

O foolish virgins — buy fresh oil and wait 

With girded garments at the Bridegroom's gate. 

Soon will he come ! — a king in royal state. 

If thou wilt love him, in his happy train 

Shalt thou pass in and part no more again 

From those bright mansions where there is no pain. 

" In me, in me," hear how the blessed word, 
Flee as unto its nest the swift winged bird — 
Thine shall be the shelter by no fear e'er stirred. 

Hungry, thou shalt be fed, and weary rest 
Upon his bosom, naked thou shalt be drest 
In his own righteousness — wilt thou be blest. 

— Mrs. L. F. Baker. 



God heeds not so much what we say, as what we are 
and what we do. Because if we are true and good, and 
do well we shall doubtless speak right. 



318 



THE NEXT 0NE 13 MINE. 

FEW years ago a fire broke out in a little village, 

fe destroying several business places, and a large 
number of dwellings. 

Brave men fought the flames even at the peril of their 
lives, but many were homeless before the cruel flames 
were extinguished. 

During the fire a certain man was noticed to take a 
sudden interest in preventing the spread of it, and be- 
gan directing all his energies to the saving of an old 
house that no one else seemed to care to save when so 
many better ones were in danger. 

How hard he worked, carrying wet carpets, blankets, 
and water, doing everything he could to prevent it from 
burning, and begged others to help save it. He was 
told to let it alone, it could not be saved, but he told 
them it must be saved. 

At last one called out in a reproving voice to know 
why he was so foolish! 

The answer came in a tone never to be forgotten by 
those who heard it. 

"The next one is mine" 

Oh, I thought, how interested people get when such 
things come so near home! 

How unconcerned they are when some mother's heart 
is crushed over the son who comes reeling home ! How 
they laugh when one boy cheats another, or one man 
knocks another down; when somebody's daughter has 

3i9 



DO SOMETHING. 

fallen, or someone who has held a high position sud- 
denly meets with reverses! 

How is it when it comes home? 

How little some seem to care for the evils of the 
saloon in their midst so long- as their son has not yet 
been drawn in, or the house of ill-fame, so long as their 
daughter has not been enticed. 

Oh that men would wake up to their responsibility 
of the evils in their midst, and help prevent the spread 
of it before they have to exclaim in anguish, "the next 
one is mine." 



130 S0ME7WMG. 

UpOU cannot set the world right, or the times, but 
you can do something for the truth, and all you 

^ can do will certainly tell if the work is for the 
Master, who gives you your share, and so the burden 
of responsibility is lifted off. This assurance makes 
peace, satisfaction, and repose possible even in the 
partial work done upon the earth. Go to a man who is 
carving a stone for a building; ask him where is that 
stone going, to what part of the temple, and how he is 
going to get it in its place; and what does he do? He 
points you to the builder's plans. So, when men shall 
ask where and how is your little achievement going 
into God's great plan, point them to the Master, who 
keeps the plans, and then go on doing your little service 
as faithfully as if the whole temple were yours to build. 

— Philip Brooks. 
320 



— 1 — r ^_„,„ 



fi R0YHIi 8ERV1GE. 

tMONG the Master's callings of high honor, 
One oftentimes we miss, 
Because our hearts in their impatient yearning, 
Fail to perceive its bliss ; 
Fail to perceive the grandeur of its service, 

The deep, sweet joy it brings, 
And deem some other easier or nobler, 
With richer harvestings. 



And so we may not choose, but Christ appoints us 

The work of sitting still, 
And saith, "My child, in quietness and patience 

This service now fulfill. 
Since all these hours of weariness and waiting 

Are precious unto me, 
Each one must needs be freighted with some blessing ; 

Love's perfect choice for thee. 

"Then think not thou art kept within the shadow 

Of long, inactive years, 
Without some purpose infinitely glorious, 

Some harvest, sown in tears." 
And so there comes a glory and a gladness 

Into the weary days, 
And in our hearts there shines a solemn radiance, 

Inwrought with quiet praise. 

We learn that we are given this sweet service, 

Because the Master sees 
That thus his delegates must oft be fitted 

For higher embassies. 

321 



A ROYAL SERVICE. 

We praise him for these lonely hours of waiting, 

And trusting look above, 
Till all the hush and silence of their service 

Grows luminous with love. 

We muse upon that ministry at Nazareth, 

Until it seems to be 
A fellowship most sweet, a royal honor, 

To wait, O Christ ! with thee. 
And even as we stand within the shadow 

Of these long years of thine, 
Our waiting days grow better, holier, grander, 

Their service more sublime ; 

Until at last we hear thy dear voice saying, 

"Child, I have need of thee 
To fill this vacant place of trust and honor, 

To do this work for me." 
And then, as fellow-workers with the Master, 

We shall arise and go 
Forth to the harvest fields of earth, may be, 

The reaper's joy to know ; 
Or to some perfect, wondrous service yonder, 

Within that Holy Place, 
Where, veilless, in its full, transfigured glory, 

His servants see His face. 




M ILLUSION ^NID A TRUTH- 

|MONG the passengers of a crowded steamboat 
ffiJl there was a man who, in consequence of excesses 
~ >_ ^ with convivial companions, was seized with that 
terrible curse of intemperance, delirium tremens. In 
the midst of his frightful visions, and their expression 
in cries for help, he suddenly turned to his attendants 
and begged piteously for a Bible. 

Immediately the inquiry was started for a copy, and 
without success, till a passenger recollected that he had 
the neglected volume packed away in his trunk. It 
was carried to the state room of the frantic sufferer 
and eagerly seized by him. 

Then laying it on the bed above his breast, with a 
wild laugh, he exclaimed, "There, devils! you are 
beaten now; you can't get over that book." 

A strange calm came over him as he lay with his wild 
eyes fixed intently on the word of God. The scene 
was one not to be forgotten; that frenzied inebriate, 
gazing with a smile of triumph upon that Bible, because 
in his imaginary conflict with fiends it lay between them 
and him, an impassable barrier. 

A strange illusion was this, yet at the same time, it 
was an illustration of a mighty truth. Had the unfort- 
unate man kept the precepts of God between his 
tempted soul and the enemy that wrought its destruc- 
tion, ruin would have been avoided. There is safety in 
the Bible, 



323 



N@T 3U17E READY. BUT AMASS?. 

tN a short talk to our girls, Mary L. Palmer, very 
truthfully mirrors the young maiden who is never 
^ quite ready, and who is to be seen flying along the 
way making a partial toilet as she goes. 

I actually know of one who combed her hair in a 
carriage on the way to a concert. 

I always feel like asking such a one some questions 
about her home life, and the kind of books and papers 
she reads; if she has never seen an article on the sub- 
ject of being ready that impressed her sufficiently to 
follow. 

The maiden or lady who is ready, who has attended 
to her small belongings and appointments, has no fur- 
ther need to think of herself on entering a railway car, 
or setting out for a walk or drive, therefore has eyes 
and thoughts for what may be around her. She sees 
more, hears more, exercises her powers of observation 
more than one who must complete her readiness after 
starting. Grace of manner is thereby acquired, and an 
ease in appearance quite in contrast to the fidgety 
movements of the chronic fixer. Again, it is very an- 
noying to accompany such a person. 

"Tie my veil, please, " is perhaps the first request. 
Presently, "Oh, do button my glove," and you act as 
a glove buttoner. 

"Is my hat on even?" 

You may be studying a fine bit of landscape, but you 
turn your eyes. 

324 



NOT QUITE READY, BUT ALMOST. 

"Not quite," and a gentle push is given. 

A little further on, "Are my bangs blown about? I 
ought to have combed them. Can't you smooth them 
a little with your hand?" 

Your hand is gloved, but you oblige your friend. 

Other requests are in order. Will you put a pin 
where the draping of her overskirt is down, or arrange 
her dolman, or lend a hair-pin to stay her falling locks? 
and by the time she is ready your interest in the walk 
is abating, or the journey nearly through, or — let us 
hope this last — your good nature has endured to the 
end. 

A girl who is never ready will probably develop into 
a woman of the same mold. She will try her life long 
to catch up with herself and never seem to get there. 

A good soldier is trained to habits of precision. 
Method marks his movements. Military drill is some- 
times considered severe, but such drill is doubtless 
needed to form habits that will build good soldiers, do- 
ing good service for their country. 

Now girls need to be good soldiers, doing service 
for themselves and each other. How can this be ac- 
complished without habits that will form strong charac- 
ter, for back of the foundation lies character, and 
promptness and neatness are elements more desirable 
than fly-away qualities. 

Every girl can mend her ways in the little matter of 
being ready at the start, and habits so strong that they 
can become second nature, are worth building on the 
right basis. 



325 



judge my. 

f^OW do we know what hearts have vilest sin ? 
How do we know ? 
*$$l Many, like sepulchers, are foul within, 

Whose outward garb is spotless as the snow, 
And many may be pure we think not so. 
How near to God the souls of such have been, 
What mercy secret penitence may win — 
How do we know ? 

How can we tell who sinned more than we ? 

How can we tell ? 
We think our brother walked guiltily, 

Judging him in self-righteousness. Ah, well ! 
Perhaps had we been driven through the hell 
Of his untold temptations, we might be 

Less upright in our daily walk than he — 
How can we tell ? 

Dare we condemn the ills that others do ? 

Dare we condemn ? 
Their strength is small, their trials not a few, 
The tide of wrong is difficult to stem. 
And if to us more clearly than to them 
Is given knowledge of the great and true, 
More do they need our help and pity, too — 
Dare we condemn ? 

God help us all and lead us day by day — 

God help us all ! 
We cannot walk alone the perfect way. 
Evil allures us, tempts us, and we fall. 
We are but human, and our power is small ; 
Not one of us may boast, and not a day 
Rolls o'er our heads but each hath need to say 
God bless us all ! 

326 



PRAYING FOR /V10RE mW' 

fHESE words from that much loved man, Phillips 
Brooks, are worthy serious thought. 
"I hear men praying everywhere for more faith, 
but when I listen to them carefully and get at the real 
heart of their prayer, it is no more faith at all that they 
are wanting, but a change from faith to sight." 

''What shall I do with this sorrow that God has sent 
mer 

"Take it up and bear it, and get strength and bless- 
ing out of it." 

"Ah, if I only knew what blessing there was in it. 
If I saw how it would help me, then I could bear it." 

"What shall I do with this hard hateful duty which 
Christ has laid right in my way?" 

"Do it, and grow by doing it." 

"Ah, yes, if I could only see that it would make me 
grow." 

In both those cases do you not see that what you are 
begging for is not more faith, although you think it is, 
but sight. 

You want to see for yourself the blessing in the sor- 
row, the strength in the hard hateful task. 

Faith says not, "I see that it is good for me, and. so 
God must have sent it," but, "God sent it, and so it 
must be good for me." Faith walking in the dark with 
God only prays Him to clasp its hand more closely, 
does not even ask Him for the lighting of the darkness,, 
so that the man may find the way himself. 



327 




WHY WILL Y0U. 

^jjrHY will you keep caring for what the world says? 
Try, oh, try, to be no longer a slave to it! You 
can have little idea of the comfort of the free- 
dom from it — it is bliss! All this caring for what peo- 
ple will say is from pride, hoist your flag and abide by 
it. In an infinitely short space of time all secrets will 
be divulged. Therefore, if you are misjudged, why 
trouble to put yourself right? You have no idea what 
a great deal of trouble it will save you. Roll your bur- 
den to Him and he will make straight your mistakes. 
He will set you right with those with whom you have 
set yourself wrong. "Here I am a lump of clay; Thou 
art the potter. Mold me as Thou in thy wisdom wilt. 
Never mind my cries. Cut my life off — so be it ; pro- 
long it — so be it. Just as Thou wilt, but I rely on thy 
unchanging guidance during the trial." 
Oh, the comfort that comes from this ! 

— Gen. Gordon. 



^ET me truly feel that in myself I am nothing, and 
at once through every inlet of my soul God comes 
in and is everything to me. And as soon as I feel 
this, the almightiness of God pours through my spirit 
like a stream, and I can do all things through him that 
strengthens me, 

— William Mountford. 



328 



|S ?WfY boy was going away from home, 
W$Wt * n a ^° re ^ n l an d for a. year to roam ; 

^pljtf^ His plans were many, his hopes were light, 

His heart beat gayly, his eyes shone bright, 

So eager he for the untried way 

Which for twelve whole months before him lay. 

" But you may be homesick, dear, " we said. 

He merrily tossed his bright young head — 

"Homesick ? Never ! Don't fear for me, 

I'll welcome a change of scene," laughed he. 

And off he started without a tear, 

( Though we knew full well how he held us dear. ) 

The days went by till to months they grew ; 

Letters were frequent and happy too. 

Our boy was " here," and again was " there," 

Joyous and glad and without a care. 

" Change of scene " he was having indeed, 

And freedom to go where his choice might lead. 

Six month had vanished, and I — ah, me ! 

With a mother's longing I pined to see 

My "wandering boy" as the days crawled past, 

Ere the time of return could come at last ; 

But there came a letter so full of joy, 

That I thought, " I am selfish to want my boy !" 

He wrote to tell me of his standing high 
On a mountain-top 'neath a sunrise sky, 
Of the wonderful view before him spread, 

329 



"HOME" AND HEAVEN. 

And the glorious canopy o'er his head. 
And I wrote him back — with steady pen, 
Tho' tears of longing would flow again — 

My pleasure because of his happiness ; 

( And I wondered much, I will here confess, 

If in all his absence he did not miss 

His mother's touch and his mother's kiss,) 

And added, ''The higher your steps may go, 

The nearer to Heaven you stand, you know." 

His answer came o'er the weary miles, 
And it brought us comfort and brought us smiles; 
For the heart of the boy was bared at last, 
(And my doubts of his love flew quickly past.) 
" Dear mother," it said, " wherever I roam, 
There is no place nearer Heaven than home !" 

And now my boy has returned to me. 

Traveled and wise no doubt is he ; 

But he sits with his dear young hand in mine, 

And he looks at me with his eyes ashine, 

And he whispers, " No matter where one may go, 

It is home and mother make heaven below." 

— Mary D. Brine. 



E will give our young readers a few rules by 
I >) which they may live at peace among themselves, 
i. Mind your own business. 2. Keep your 
tongue from evil. 3. Do not contend for every trifle, 
whether it be a matter of right or opinion. 4. If others 
neglect their duty to you, be sure you perform yours to 
them. To return evil is wrong. 

330 




SHE GAINED fl GUSI0/V\ER. 

t DON'T seem to find just what I want," said a lady 
to a clerk in one of the large Boston stores. 

"I'm sorry," said the clerk, politely; "perhaps 
another time we may have a better supply." 

"Possibly;" and the lady picked up her hand-bag 
and walked away, without even a word of thanks, al- 
though the saleswoman had been showing her laces for 
an hour, and taken down box after box for her exami- 
nation. 

"Well, Helen," said the companion clerk, as the cus- 
tomer passed out of hearing, "if I'd been in your 
place I'd given the fussy old thing a snub; bothering so 
long and not buying after all!" 

"I wish she had bought," said Helen, "but at any 
rate I did my duty." 

"Duty! yes, and very likely got a black mark from 
the floor-walker for not making a sale. I detest shop- 
pers!" 

"But another time she may buy something. Who 
knows? So I tried to be polite to her, though it does 
seem too bad to spend so much time and sell nothing." 

"Yes; and it shows so on your books," answered 
her companion. "You ought to have sent her off long 
ago. You might have sold to two or three customers, 
for we had quite a rush one while." 

A week later the same lady came again to the lace 
counter, and declining to be served by one of the other 
clerks, waited several minutes for Helen to get through 

33i 



IT ISN'T FAR TO JESUS. 



with another customer, then she asked to see laces 
again. Helen was attentive and courteous; the cus- 
tomer made a small purchase and went out. 

"Sold again by Madam Fussiness?" said one of the 
other clerks, laughing. 

"Not quite," smiled Helen; "and I hope she'll come 



again. 



Within a few days she . did come again, this time 
bringing a friend with her; and to Helen's great satis- 
faction, both of them bought liberally. 

When they had gone the floor-walker came to Helen 
and said: 

"You've done well. That lady dressed so plainly 

was Mrs. S . She's immensely rich and awfully 

fussy. Her patronage will be worth a good deal to the 
store. The superintendent shall hear how well you got 
along with her." 

Patience and politeness had their reward, and it is to 
be hoped that the other clerks learned a lesson. 



IT 1SN7 F«R 7® d^SUS. 

tT isn't far to Jesus ; 
If you only knew how near, 
^ You would reach Him in a moment, 
And banish all your fear. 

He is standing close beside you, 

If only you could see, 
And is saying, could you hear Him, 

"Let the children come to Me." 

332 



IT ISN'T FAR TO JESUS. 

Don't you know He never changes, 
As your little friends do here ? 

He is always kind and ready 
For to comfort and to cheer ; 

And the very best about it is, 
He's always close at hand, 

And will always listen to you, 
And always understand. 

It matters not how little, 

Or how very young or weak ; 

And if you have been sinful, 
It was you He came to seek. 

There is nothing that need hinder 
Your coming to Him now, 

So you surely will not linger 
Until you older grow. 

You really must love Jesus 

When you think of all His love 

In coming down from heaven, 
That happy home above ; 

And lying in a manger, 

And suffering so much woe, 

That you and all dear children 
To that bright world might go. 



' 'Know thyself, " is good advice, but ' 'know about 
your neighbors," is the general practice. 

333 



J{ HOUSE 70 LET. 

jNE day an old man met a business friend on the 
street and suddenly said to him, "John you 
- have a house to let?" 
"A house to let?" repeated the younger man. "Who 
told you so? I have no house to let." 

"I think you have, John. You are not preparing to 
live in it yourself, I see. I mean your house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens. You have not 
made arrangements to move in, have you? It's to let, 
then." 

The young man walked away as though a hornet 
had stung him, and he did not let the sun go down on 
his head without taking steps to inhabit that house him- 
self. 



• G0ME T0 GHRI87. 

3 iEAR Friend, why don't you come to Christ 

\ffl When all are pleading so ; 

Your Pastor, friends and neighbors, 
Your wife and children too. 
Dear Jesus stands with out-stretched arms, 
And angels breathless wait 
To bear your penitential prayer 
Up to the golden gate. 

Long in dreadful condemnation 
You have suffered on, 
Your sense of guilt and load of sin 
Have well nigh crushed you down ; 

334 



COME TO CHRIST. 

But Satan laughs at your distress, 
He scoffs at your dispair ! 
And tries to keep you on his side 
With, " bravo ! Do and dare ! " 

Think of the fearful day when you 

Before the Judge shall stand, 

In speechless horror and dismay, 

No one can help a hand 

When God shall say, " Your day is past, 

Away, it is no use, 

You did not take the Son I gave, 

You are without excuse." 

I ask again, will you not come 
While mercy pleads for you, 
And let the Savior in his love 
Give you a heart all new ? 
Oh do not let that wicked one 
Rob you of heaven's joys, 
And drag you down to endless woe 
Into the fiendish noise. 

Break the bands that sin has fastened, 
Break them now and rise ; 
Behold the bleeding Lamb of God, 
Accept the sacrifice. 



"Do to-day's duty, fight to-day's temptation; do not 
weaken and distract yourself by looking forward to 
things you cannot see, and could not understand if you 
saw them." 



335 



THE SECRET W MEE. 

fHE secret of life, — it is giving ; 
To minister and to serve ; 
Love's law binds the man to the angel, 
And ruin befalls, if we swerve. 
There are breadths of celestial horizons 

Overhanging the commonest way ; 
The cloud and the star share the glory, 
And to breathe is an ecstacy. 



Life dawns on us, wakes us, by glimpses ; 

In heaven there is opened a door ! — 
That flash lit up vistas eternal ; 

The dead-are the living once more ! 
To illumine the scroll of creation, 

One swift, sudden vision sufficed : 
Every riddle of life worth the reading 

Has found its interpreter — Christ ! 

— Lucy Larcom. 



RE#L P0WER. 

a ^EALTH, we are told is power; talent is power, 
and knowledge is power. But there is a 
mightier force in the world than either of these, 
— a power which wealth is not rich enough to purchase, 
nor genius subtle enough to refute, nor knowledge wise 
enough to over-reach, nor authority imposing enough 
to silence. They all tremble in its presence. It is 
truth — really the most potent element of social or 

336 




REAL POWER. 



individual life. Though tossed on the billows of pop- 
ular commotion, or cast into the seven-fold heated 
furnace of persecution, or trampled into the dust by 
the iron heel of power, truth is the one indestructible 
thing in this world, that loses in no conflict, suffers 
from no abuse, and maintains its vitality and complete- 
ness after every assault. All kinds of conspiracies 
have been exhausted to crush it, and all kinds of seduc- 
tions been employed to viciate and poison it; but none 
have succeeded, and none ever will. We can be confr 
dent of nothing else in this world, but the safety and 
imperishability of truth — -for it is a part of the divine 
nature, and invested with eternity and omnipotence of 
its authority and source. It may often seem to be in 
danger; it is as much set upon and assaulted now after 
eighteen hundred years of successful resistance, as 
ever; but history and experience ought to reassure our 
faith. It has never yet failed, and it never will. We 
may rest serenely upon it, and feel no alarm: we may 
anticipate its success, and enjoy its triumphs in ad- 
vance. In this struggling life, what encouragement 
and comfort there is in this thought — that the man of 
truth and the cause of truth, are connected with the 
most potent element in the world, and have all the 
certainty of succeeding which God's immutable nature 
and decree affords. 



It won't help your own crop to sit on the fence and 
count the weeds in your neighbor's field. 



337 



BE 6KRE|?UL Wtfa? Y@U SSY- 

N speaking of a person's faults, 
Pray don't forget your own ; 
^F Remember, those in homes of glass 

Should seldom throw a stone. 
If we have nothing else to do 

But talk of those who sin, 
'Tis better we commence at home, 
And from that point begin. 

We have no right to judge a man 

Until he's fairly tried ; 
Should we not like his company, 

We know the world is wide. 
Some may have faults — and who have not ? 

The old as well as young ; 
Perhaps we- may, for aught we know, 

Have fifty to their one. 

I'll tell you of a better plan, 

And find it works full well ; 
To try my own defects to cure 

Before of others tell ; 
And though I sometimes hope to be 

No worse than some I know, 
My own shortcomings bid me let 

The faults of others go. 

Then let us all when we commence 

To slander friend or foe, 
Think of the harm one word may do 

To those we little know. 
Remember, curses sometimes, like 

Our chickens, " roost at home." 
Don't speak of other's faults until 

We have none of our own. 

338 




339 



TWO SIDES. 



TWO SIDES 70 H g.UESJION. 

§0 you know what you're doing, young lady, 
When you're trying to capture a beau ? 
When you dress you in fancy apparel 
And go on the streets for a show ? 
Will you be quite content with the mortal 

You are trying so faithful to get ? 
Or, after the bargain is over, 
Will you have a dissatisfied fit ? 



There are fits which are painful and lasting, 

But physicians the end may foretell, 
But with this kind of fit, I am fearful, 

You will have all your life to get well. 
I have learned by a slight observation 

There are sometimes two sides' to a thing ; 
I've noticed that sometimes young ladies 

Are apt to cry after they sing. 

You say you love him for his beauty ! 

Do you know he takes you for your dress ? 
Do you know love is proved in the homestead^ 

And. that this will not stand the sad test ? 
You will have few hours for the ball-room, 

And household duties to shirk, 
For 'tis plain he will never be able 

To provide should you fail in the work. 

And when there's no time for the frizzes, 
And bustles are things of the past, 

And he sees that the beauty he married 
When confined to the home fails to last,. 

339 



TWO SIDES TO A QUESTION. 

Remember, this is not false Scripture, 

And should you doubt now time will tell, — 

He will go where he finds these attractions, 
And home will be next to a hell! 

You will fade, and your husband will notice 

You are not the fair miss that he wed, 
And, though he may try to conceal it, 

For his home there arises a dread ; 
And he'll spend his spare time by the fireside 

Where fashion and beauty abound, 
For he tires of the cares of the homestead, 

And goes where old pleasures are found. 

Nor can I quite call him a scoundrel 

And say that he meant to deceive, 
For that would be harshly affirming 

What I myself hardly believe. 
He was full of ambition, you called it, 

And liked all the fun he could get ; 
'Tis but the old life you admired, 

And he's not got over it yet. 

Then remember, your building in folly 

The nest where you'll have to abide ; 
You are giving your truth and your honor, 

And selling your Master beside. 
And when you have found his heart roving 

From the one he has power to bless, 
Say not he is false, for he clings to 

What he married — just beauty and dress. 

— Mrs. Nellie Mearns Weaver. 



340 



THE SECRET. 

fROFESSOR Drummond, in an address, once told 
this story: " I know of a very beautiful character 
— one of the loveliest characters which ever 
bloomed on this earth. It was the character of a young 
girl. She always wore about her neck a little locket, 
but nobody was ever allowed to open it None of her 
companions ever knew what it contained, until one day 
she was laid up with a dangerous illness. Then one of 
them was granted permission to look into the locket, 
and she saw written there: 'Whom not having seen I 
love.' That was the secret of her beautiful life. She 
had changed into the beautiful life." 



UNT Esther, won't you tell me how to climb over 
fffit the misty mountains cousin Prudence is always 
* placing across my way? She compares me to the 
Union Signal, and says I'm too effusive, I say too many 
pleasant things to people. I must be less demon- 
strative; always say good things of people behind their 
backs, so to speak, but never, never to their faces. She 
calls all my try-to-be-gentle speeches 'flattery,' and says 
that my friends will think me insincere, and that it is sure 
to make people ego-ish to hear nke things of them- 
selves." 

34i 



I KNOW SOMETHING NICE OF YOU." 



"You poor dear; come over on this cozy couch while 
I tell you a story of years — yes, years and years ago." 

"But, aunt Esther, you are not so awful old as that, 
are you? You seem so nice and youthful to me? What 
nice, soft pillows these are — where did they -come from?" 

'•From Alaska — filled with the soft, white down of the 
mountain goat." 

"How nice of the goat to be so downy ! " said Amy. 

" Now, child, first tell me how you come to use that 
word nice so often ? " 

" Why, aunt Esther, that's your very own word ; you 
always used it so charmingly. The happiest voice of 
my childhood' was yours as you whispered, ' I know 
something nice of you,' and I felt a foot taller that 
day, for I knew I had your approbation." 

The tears filled Aunt Esther's brown eyes as she said, 
" It is nice of you to remember that, but that's another 
story; I will tell you of long ago, when my 'fairy canoe 
rode like foam o'er the wave.' I was a careless, happy 
girl ; I liked everybody, and thought everybody liked 
me ; I was not selfish, but I never thought to go out of 
my way to be thoughtful or generous ; anything for fun ; 
anything to have a. good time. I was sent to a board- 
ing school. The building was a great gloomy bastiiish 
kind of a place. The energetic professor had been sent 
by President Lincoln as minister to China. The stew- 
ard seemed to think it was war times, prices high, and 
he must stint and scrimp in every way to keep his ex- 
chequer on the top wave till the ' master should come 
back o'er the mighty deep.' The girls were often hun- 
gry and ill at ease ; wood was not cut as it ought to 

342 



"J KNOW SOMETHING NICE OF YOU. 



have been, and the rooms were always cold. My little 
room-mate, Mollie Brackett, was a sweet-faced, lovable 
girl, whose dear, generous ways have never faded from 
my memory. That old steward seemed to buy cheap, 
illuminating fluid, not oderless, however, for the butter 
was always impregnated with the oil which was lacking 
in the halls. No lamps were allowed to be lighted be- 
tween tea-time and devotions, so there was a half hour 
or more after tea, before cheap lamp light when the 
younger girls were out in search of fun. 

" One night, after a tealess 'tea,' Mollie and I wandered 
up and down in hopes some thrifty senior, who had laid 
in a store of wood, might ask us to spend a while with 
her ; but seniors were not good to little girls and we 
hoped in vain. The fifth story of this mansion was re- 
puted to be haunted. We dared each the other to creep 
to the top of the narrow stairway and listen for the 
' swish ' of the ghostly garments. We mounted, cour- 
age freezing in our veins ; we ran down, forgetting Lady 
McFarland's blue paper, ' Rule No. 35. No young 
lady allowed in the fifth story.' 

"A door opened as we landed at the bottom of the 
stairs. A teacher, pale, fair, youthful, with auburn hair 
and clear brow that seemed crowned with a halo to 
us, as she said, not sternly as we deserved, ( Well, com- 
rades, what seek you ? ' 

11 Her pleasant voice inspired confidence and we in- 
stantly told her, 'We are hungry and cold and so lone- 
some that there is nothing to live for ; we have been up 
to get the ghost to scare us to death.' 

" She said, 'come into my room.' Dear heart, if she 

343 



«• I KNOW SOMETHING NICE OF YOU." 

had known how afraid we were to go in. For teachers 
always invited us in to tell us some unpleasant thing 
'for our good' and we didn't care to discuss those sub- 
jects ; we entered gingerly. Oh, that fire ! I can see 
the glimmer all across the years. A stove like an old- 
fashioned ' deestrick meetin' school house,' long, narrow 
— but, oh, such a wealth of red-hot coals ! She excused 
herself a moment, telling us to make ourselves ' nice ' 
and comfortable. 

" She returned with a half loaf of bread, some de- 
odorized butter from the teachers' table, one knife and 
three forks ; opening the stove door she gave us each 
a fork, and cut the bread thin. We sat on the floor and 
toasted it, burned our hands and warmed our souls with 
happy laughter. Not a word of rebuke for that lost 
chemistry lesson, not a whisper of mental or moral phi- 
losophy. And this was a teacher whom we had been 
afraid of! The bell for prayers sounded — she took her 
little Bible and read the verses she would have us re- 
peat in devotions, ' He leadeth me beside still waters, 
he restoreth my soul.' How those verses always bring 
back her loving voice. 

"She whispered: ' Come to-morrow evening. I know 
something nice of you.' 

" The next twilight found us at her door. 

''Thus began a little class that widened in numbers, 
whose motto was, ' I know something nice of somebody, 
I must surely tell her ; she will be encouraged.' If a 
girl were wearied she wandered into this dear room for 
this teacher's helpful 'something.' If our rooms were 
unusually ' nice,' we were sure to be told of it. It was 

344 



" I KNOW SOMETHING NICE OF YOU. 



like wearing a school medal of the older days. Each 
tried to be kind and generous to the other and to de- 
serve praise. 

" In all the passing years I have never seen a gentle 
deed, a self-forgetful act, but I have felt that I would 
like to whisper, ' I know something nice of you.' ' 

" Who was that fair-faced teacher, Aunt Esther? Did 
she keep the promise of her youth?" 

"Aye, more, Amy; who was that fair-faced girl 
teacher? A woman to-day more widely known for her 
good that has grown by her influence than any other 
woman in the world. The halo that shone for us has 
lighted many a foreign shore, for everybody knows 
something 'nice' of Frances E. Willard, the best loved 
woman in the world ! 

"Don't save all your flowers for me till I am dead ! 
Give me a few daisies each day. When I land on the 
other shore — if I have been faithful — I should like to 
have Miss Willard's 'sister Mary' meet me on the bank 
and say, ' I know something nice of you that my sister 
Frank taught you in dear old Evanston.'" 



— M. 



Converse with those that will do you good, or to 
whom you may do good. 



He who cannot hold his peace until the true time 
comes for acting is no right man. 



345 



N0WI £NB TtfEK 

^ES, study away, my dearies, and learn your lessons 
well, 

*S^f For grandmother is not too old or stupid yet to 
tell 

How faithful, thoughtful study makes the young eyes 

clear and bright, 
And gives the bonny faces such a glow of inner light. 

'"Things were very different in my younger days, you 

know, 
Some forty, no, say fifty— bless me ! sixty years ago ! 
What did we do ? Why, children, if you only could 

have seen 
How many skeins of wool I spun before I was sixteen ! 

'" We learned to read the Bible without stopping once 

to spell, 
To write a letter plain enough for one to read it well, 
With just enough of ciphering our own accounts to 

keep ; 
Of geography and history, perhaps a little peep. 

" Your French and your Italian w r e never learned to 

speak, 
And only parsons ever thought of Latin or of Greek. 
■Geology — geometry — to me they're much the same, 
And every science that you talk of, nothing but a 

name. 

346 



NOW AXD THEX. 

" The beauties of the world around I see with simple 

eyes ; 
Far different from a gaze like yours, so learned and so 

wise. 
And I'm proud of you, my darlings, when I come 

about and see 
Your books and books, the like of which were never 

made for me. 



" For in all your life-long journey it must be that you 

will find 
This knowledge of the Father's gifts, these treasures 

of the mind, 
Will surely bring you nearer to him now, and, some 

bright day, 
Will give you higher places in the home that's far 

away. " 

But little Ruth came close to look in grandma's 

patient face, 
To mark its gentle firmness, its glow of heaven's grace, 
And wondered much if any before the great white 

throne 
Would find a higher, nearer, better place than 



grandma's own. 



— Sydney Dayre. 



Seven things that fail us, — money fails, kinsfolk 
fail, strength fails, refuge fails, eyes fail, desire fails 
and heart and flesh fail. 



347 



WtfflT flLli GP 130. 

, JO man has a right to say he can do nothing for the 
1 benefit of man-kind, who are less benefitted by 
ambitious projects than by the sober fulfillment of 
each man's proper duties. By doing the proper duty 
in the proper place, a man may make the world his 
debtor. The results of "patient continuance in well- 
doing" are never to be measured by the weakness of 
the instrument, but by the omnipotence of Him who 
blesseth the sincere efforts of obedient faith alike in 
the prince and in the cottager. 



TR0UBlxE PD TRIALS NEVER 6ESSE. 

&^lj|i\NY a young convert is surprised that, having 
4WSI become a Christian, he is still beset by trials and 
~^^ troubles. One said recently: "I thought I 
was over my troubles when I became a Christian, but I 
find they are still on hand, though there is this differ- 
ence — I have Jesus to help me bear them now." Old 
Christians and young Christians need to have this all 
the time in mind. "Put on the whole armour of God 
that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the 
devil." 

Keep on, weary struggling, fainting Christian, sur- 
rounded with troubles and trials without measure, for, 
' 'These are they which have come out of great tribula- 
tion and have washed their robes and made them white 
in the blood of the Lamb." 

348 



LITTLE child, left at home alone one cold tem- 

I pestuous day, was applied to by a poor wanderer 
'"^ for shelter. 

"I can't let you in," said the little one from an upper 
window, "because my father don't know you ; " and she 
would not be entreated. 

Suddenly the child's voice was heard again: " Do 
you know Jesus? " 

The poor woman burst into tears and declared that 
Jesus was her only friend. 

Instantly the door flew open. "Oh, if you know 
Jesus," said the child, "it's all right, because he's our 
friend too." 



THE 3EGRE7 0[F HAPPINESS. 

^APPINESS comes most to people who seek her 
least and think least about her. It is not an ob- 
ject to be sought; it is a state to be induced. It 
must follow and not lead. It must overtake you, and 
not you overtake it." In the course of his sound phi- 
losophizing he says: "A contented mind is the first 
condition of happiness, but what is the first condition 
of a contented mind? You will be disappointed when 
I tell you what this all-important thing is, it is so com- 
mon, so near at hand, and so many people have so 
much of it and yet are not happy. They have too 

349 



IF YOU WOULD BE HAP FT. 



much of it, or else the kind that is not best suited for 
them. What is the best thing for a stream? It is to 
keep moving. If it stops it stagnates. So the best 
thing for a man is that which keeps the current going, 
the physical, moral and intellectual currents. Hence 
the secret of happiness is — something to do; some con- 
genial work. Take away the occupation of all men and 
what a wretched world it would be. Half of it would 
commit suicide in less than ten days." 

— John Burroughs. 



IP Y@U W@Ulil3 BE PPPY. 

EEP your temper. 

J| Gain a little knowledge every day. 

Make few promises, and speak the truth. 

Give full measure and weight with a just balance. 

Consent to common custom, but not to common folly. 

Be cautious of believing ill, but more cautious of re- 
peating it. 

Have courage to wear your old clothes until you can 
pay for new ones. 

Think of Heaven with hearty purpose and strong 
hope to get there. 

Do good to all, that thou mayest keep thy friends 
and gain thine enemies. 

Count your resources ; find out what you are not fit 
for, and give up wishing for it. 



350 



REST G0METH AFTER Bi\L 

giEYOND the toil, the burdens of the day, 
f|f| Beyond the tempests and the storms of life, 
Far from the tumult of the weary way, 

Beyond the longing and the ceaseless strife; 
Out of the darkness and the gloom of night, 
Beyond the hills where shadows neverfall, 
And far beyond the range of mortal sight, 
Rest cometh after all." 



" After the fever and the restless pain, 

After the waiting and the weary years, 
After the conflict and the loss and gain, 

After the sorrow and the useless tears, 
Far, far beyond the lofty heights of Fame, 

Beyond the hills where shadows never fall, 
Beyond the fear of censure and of blame, 

Rest cometh after all." 



EARTH T@ WR. 

|K| LITTLE worm on branch of gray 
|W| Began his work one summer day. 
^IP* He planned and built, he wove and spun, 
Until his tiny house was done. 



He laid the walls with leaf-green rails ; 
He set the roof with golden nails ; 
He wove a sheet of softest lace, 
And in its folds himself found place. 

351 



EARTH TO AIR. 

He slept, and in the dark of night 
Upon his sides grew wings of light. 
The shining house became a veil, 
And gone was every golden nail. 

Through the thin walls of gauze I spied 
The rainbow wings he had not tried. 
They cradled close and folded tight 
His velvet body, strong and light. 

On sped the hours till sleep was done, 
Wide swung the doors to life's new sun. 
He woke ! — he longed his wings to try, 
And found himself— a butterfly! 

No longer measuring slow his way, 
No longer shut from light of day, 
He does not toil with creeping things, 
But floats with birds on happy wings ! 

Dear symbol of immortal years, 
Thy lesson banishes our fears ; 
For we, when done with earthly things, 
Shall find, like thee, our angel wings. 

— Lydia Avery Coonley. 



fHE habit of strict and careful accuracy in speak- 
ing, of saying- neither more or less than is felt, or 
^ J thought or known, of recording facts, events, and 
scenes as correctly as possible, will form the best pos- 
sible safeguard against the utterance of a conscious un- 
truth, however strong may be the motive which may 
urge it. 

352 



L0VE 0|? DRESS HP§ ITS MW78. 

EAUTY has a powerful influence over most of us. 
A humorously pathetic story is told of an old man 
whose life had been spent with a severely plain, ill- 
dressed wife, who secretly purchased a flaxen haired 
doll to gratify his latent love of the beautiful, will illus- 
trate the principle. Actual physical beauty is a rare 
gift, but pleasant, cheery, clean looks and agreeable 
dressing go far toward answering the same purpose. 
The woman who studies the question of dress in order 
that she may find and appropriate that which is becom- 
ing, who makes a careful study of color and outlines 
from an artistic standpoint, and who seeks to emphasize 
every one of her good points and to disguise those 
which are less attractive, is adding materially to her in- 
fluence for good at home and abroad. But when dress 
becomes a paramount consideration in a woman's life 
and simply a means of gratifying her vanity or eclipsing 
her neighbors, it is a lamentable perversion, and injures 
herself and all who come under her influence. 



NE of an admiring group around a certain consci- 
1 entious woman of boundless tact, recently asked 
her what she found truthfully to say when adoring 
parents exhibited unpromising infants or their pictures. 
The tactful woman smiled with justifiable pride at the 
score of anxious feminine faces turned toward her: " I 
always exclaim ardently, 'Well, that is a baby,' and," 
with dancing eyes, "it is, you know." 

353 



N@7 MJGR BUT W0RK. 

IWENTY clerks in a store, twenty hands in a print- 
ing office, twenty apprentices in a ship-yard,twenty 
young men in town, all want to get on in the 
world, and expect to do so," says an old merchant. 

' 'One of the clerks will become partner, and make a 
fortune; one of the compositors will own a newspaper, 
and become an influential citizen ; one of the appren- 
tices will become master builder ; one of the villagers 
will get a handsome farm, and live like a patriarch — but 
which one is the lucky individual? Lucky? There is 
no luck about it. The thing is almost as certain as the 
rule of three. The young fellow who will distance his 
competitors is he who masters his business, preserves 
his integrity, who lives cleanly and purely, who devotes 
his leisure to the acquisition of knowledge ; who gains 
friends by deserving them, and saves his spare money. 
There are some ways to fortune shorter than this dusty 
old highway, but the staunch men of the community, 
the men who have achieved something really worth hav- 
ing — good fortune, good name and serene old age — all 
go in this road." 



The man who finds out that he has made a fool of 
himself has learned something valuable. 



354 



"THE GARDEN 0|? ROSES." 

f IS the Master's garden of beauty now, 
^f/uM An orchard of pleasant fruits. 
^ As he walks in its shade at the cool of day, 
With voice of approval we hear him say, 
" Blessed is she 
Who trains these human flowers for me." 

Once it brought forth only briars and thorns — 
No plant of beauty was here ; 
No shade where the Master could love to rest, 
No roses to fasten upon his breast ; 

He turned his face 

Away in grief from the wasted place. 

Now he looks with joy on the tender vines, 
And blesses the gardener's care ; 
The winds of his providence send abroad, 
Over desolate w r aste and dusty road, 

A fragrance rare 

From His purchased garden of roses fair. 

As He walks among the beds of bloom, 
A touch of His gentle hand 
Breaks now and again from the parent stem 
From among the buds the fairest of them ; 

But not to die — 

His touch giveth life eternally. 

Awake ! O thou north wind ! and come thou 

south ! 
For lo ! the winter is past. 
Awake, ye ! and over His garden blow, 

355 



" THE GARDEN OF ROSES." 

That the spices thereof may outward flow, 
And fruit most sweet 
Be found when the Master comes to eat. 

Tis blessed to work in thy garden, Lord ; 

Give even to me a share ! 

When comest in at the cool of day, 

May the word be for me when Thou shalt say, 

" Blessed is she 

Who trains these human flowers for me." 

—Mrs. J. H. Knowles. 



THE RIGHTS @P @THER PE0PLE, 

*00 commonly the fact is ignored that a man's 
opinions and convictions are his personal private 
matter, with which no one else has the right to 
meddle. 

In politics, the spending of money, in social life, in 
dress and education, each one should scrupulously avoid 
acting as a censor of others who may differ with him- 
self. 

No one is privileged while a guest to attack the opin- 
ions of a family whose hospitality he enjoys. When, 
for any reason he cannot acquiesce in the family regu- 
lations let him depart, and not try to reform the family 
to his standard of propriety. 

A man may believe in homeopathy to the highest di- 
lution, but that belief does not entitle him to the privi- 
leges of calling his neighbor to account because he 
chooses to seek relief by means of mercury and quinine 
in as heroic doses as he may fancy. 

By calm personal argument, or by force of example, 
one may try to convince another that his way is the 
better, but a true courtesy requires that he shall not, 
unasked, present his opinions, where to do so will 
wound and not alter in the slightest degree the cause 
of his opponent. 

Let no person flatter himself that because a man is 
loud of voice, and blunt in speech, ever ready with 
cruel judgment of others and free with advice in all 
matters, that he will pleasantly accept such treatment 

357 



THE POST OF DANGER 



from others, for he is quite as likely to resent interfer- 
ence with his affairs as a man of gentler speech and 
greater charity. 

It is so easy to form the habit of meddlesomeness, 
•and to persuade one's self into the belief that one's 
mission is to be a "private investigator and public ad- 
viser," that one is apt to forget that in the regulation 
of one's own conduct, life presents enough perplexing 
problems without trespassing on the rights of others in 
a mistaken zeal to convert them to a better way. 



THE POST 0P DANGER. 

FRENCH GENERAL was once leading his reg- 
iment through a narrow and difficult pass. He 
begged his soldiers to endure with patience the 
fatigue and danger of the march. 

"It is easy for you to talk," said one of the soldiers 
near him, "you who are mounted on a fine horse; but 
we — poor fellows! " 

On hearing these words the general dismounted, and 
quickly proposed that the dismounted soldier should 
take his place on the horse. The soldier did so imme- 
diately; but he had scarcely mounted the horse, when a 
shot from the enemy on the surrounding heights struck 
and killed him. 

"You see," said the general to his troops, " that the 
most elevated place is not the least dangerous." He 
then remounted his horse and continued the march. 



a 



358 



GODS GflliL 

^OME out, come out, my people, 
mE Oh ! hear the clarion call ; 



It ringeth down the ages, 

To you, to me, to all. 

" Ye are the royal priesthood, 

Your ransom is unpriced, 

Bought not with gold or silver, 

But the precious blood of Christ."' 

" Ye are the living temples, 
Of God, the living God, 
Oh ! follow in the footsteps 
Your blessed Master trod. 
Shun aught that can defile you,. 
He'd have you walk in white, 
Heirs of His royal glory 
And children of the light." 

" Come out ! I will receive you, 
Touch not the unclean thing, 
Ye'll be the sons and daughters 
Of an Almighty King." 
Oh, cleanse both flesh and spirit, 
His blessed promise claim, 
He'll perfect what concerns you, 
For Faithful is his name. 

— Elizabeth T. Larkix 



359 



MANNERS ffl H0ME. 

|HE foundation of courtesy is a desire to render 
happy those about us. Should not the members 
of one's own family receive the first consideration ? 
It is the kind feeling of the inmates for each other that 
makes home a very heaven ; and if they are indifferent, 
careless or unkind to each other, then the home is a 
dwelling place, not the "Home, Sweet Home," sung 
by Howard Paine. It is the little courtesies, the kind 
word, the loving smile, the gentle caress, that smooths 
the rough pathway of life. The one who is always 
waiting for some one else to show kindness may wait 
too long. The home that is ruled by love will be a 
happy one. Do not imagine the members of the family 
know you love them if you never show your feelings. 
Actions speak louder than words. 

Children are apt to be reticent unless parents set the 
example. Many a girl has married very unhappily, 
casting herself into the arms of the first man who said, 
"I love you," just because she was hungry for the love 
of some one, and denied that which was hers by right. 
Many a boy has been driven to the saloon because 
there were companions there who wanted him and at 
home no one took pains to let him feel that his pres- 
ence was desired. This feeling, "Nobody cares for 
me," is responsible for much of the evil in the world. 
It is quite true that spoiled children cause much unhap- 
piness. But why are they spoiled? A wise parent 
will not gratify every desire of a child. 

360 



MANNERS AT HOME. 



Self-denial is one of the things to be taught in child- 
hood; it is almost impossible to teach it afterward; and 
we all know how disagreeable a thoroughly selfish 
person is. In every house it should be the rule of the 
inmates to greet each other with "Good morning. " 
"Thank you," and "If you please" should be said to 
the toddler as well as the gray-haired grand-parent. 
Little children taught from the cradle are always polite. 
And do not stop with words. If Amy is struggling to 
sew in a doll's sleeve not near so large as the arm-hole, 
lay down your work and help her to "make it fit." If 
Tom has trouble finding strings for his kite and you 
have forty things to do, help the boy now; by and by 
he will help you. If husband is cross, don't answer 
sharply back, but when the right time comes let him 
know you are sorry for his vexations and sympathize 
with him. And, husband, if wife is surly, very likely 
she has the neuralgia so bad she don't feel like talking. 
Suppose you take it for granted and do what you can 
to make her comfortable. One of the truest little 
poems I know of runs this way: 

" Love that asketh love again 
Finds the barter naught but pain ; 
Love that giveth in full store 
Aye receives as much and more ; 
Love exacting nothing back 
Never knoweth any lack ; 
Love compelling love to play 
Sees him bankrupt every day." 



361 



MYSTERY. 

(EE how the flame doth cling to the lamp I bear 
in my hand ! 
You think it a simple thing-, easy to understand ? 

Of what, then, is it made, and how was its substance 

wrought 
When it sprang to life, and first obeyed the might of 

Eternal Thought ? 

The match, this tiny wand, though no magician, I 
But draw o'er the surface of sand, and lo ! the flame 
leaped high ! 

I gave to the wick the light, and here is the tongue of 

fire, 
Wonderful, steadfast, bright, never to flag or tire. 

W r hile wick and oil are renewed ; changeless its place 

it keeps, 
Sheltered from wild winds rude, it falters not nor 

sleeps. 

And from its flame so small you might kindle the 

lights of the earth, 
All the lamps of home, from hovel to hall, all the fires 
on every hearth : 

And the flame would never be less, would lose no 

atom of power, 
Though it gave to all, it would still possess the vigor 

of its first hour. 

362 



MYSTERY. 

Tis a mystery full of awe ; at the heart of creation it 

lies, 
An engine vast of eternal law, a riddle of the wise. 

Strike iron cold upon flint, or if stone upon stone you 

strike, 
Out leaps the spark with its burning hint of the power 
in both alike. 

Branches of wood that lie dead in the forest dark, 
Rub them together rapidly, and lo ! the living spark ! 

Through the whole world everywhere latent the 

wonder lurks, 
In the depths of earth, in the hights of air, for ever the 

marvelous works. 

So the Spirit of God doth burn through the universe 

He hath made, 
From the delicate frond of the fern to the Pleiades' 

tangled braid. 

Seeing we do not see ; we hear, but who understands ? 
We can but bow the knee and worship the work of 
His hands. 

— Celia Thaxier. 






fiAY the records of our lives 



; ]Wh \i Which the winded hours bear above. 
LL— A 

- Be high resolves, nobly kept, 

Kindly words and deeds of love." 



363 



DEVEST PB V16T©RY- 

..HAT which to a christian may seem a sad repulse 
fljW- or defeat may be God's plan for victory. Paul 
^ was to see Rome, but when he entered that city a 
prisoner it looked as if the promise was mockery, yet 
he soon found that coming to Rome was productive of 
grand results, and even in Caesar's household there 
were those who became "saints." Bunyan was im- 
prisoned, and was thus prevented from preaching, but 
the best work he ever did for Christ was while he was 
in Bedford jail. He might have evangelized for awhile, 
but no work he could have done in preaching would 
have had the world-wide influence that has come from 
the "Pilgrim's Progress." When Judson was rebuffed 
in British India it seemed as if the door of usefulness 
might be closed, but forced as it were, to go to the 
Burham, he lighted a golden lamp, which has guided 
thousands to eternal life. Well is it if we, conscious 
of our own inability to judge what may be best, are 
willing to accept divine appointments, and believe that 
what we know not now will hereafter be proved best 
for ourselves and the cause of God. 



About the most foolish thing that can be done is to 
try to live a christian life without religion. 



He who sows thorns should not go barefoot. 

364 



0[slE 80URGE OP EVIL 

|f HINKING well of a person is one of the best aids 
that can be given to lead him on toward well- 
doing. One reason why there are so many bad 
boys in the world is because the phrase "bad boy" has 
so rooted itself in the popular thought toward all boys. 
A child of five years not long ago shrewdly observed: 
"People don't know that little children are good, unless 
they keep them; then they find out they can be good." 
A child even at that early age, had seen enough of the 
world to know that the prevailing disposition is to take 
it for granted that a child can have no spontaneous 
promptings to right, no noble aspirations to goodness, 
no praiseworthy motives to action. And yet she knew 
that upon a fair trial, without prejudice, the world might 
reverse its hard judgment. The rule applies through 
all ages and conditions. One reason why so many ex- 
convicts are untrustworthy is because they know that 
no one trusts them; bad boys are bad because they are 
taught that badness is a necessary constituent of boy- 
hood. Children and men find it easier to do evil when 
evil is expected of them. 



About the poorest man you can find is the rich man 
who never gives. 



No man has any trouble in pleasing God who loves 
his neighbor as himself. 

365 



THIS is Mire. 

f HAVE planned much work for my life," she said ;. 
A girlish creature with golden hair, 
And bright and winsome as she was fair. 



~yy 



"The days are full, till he comes to wed ; 
The clothes to buy, and the home to make 
A very Eden, for his dear sake." 

But cares soon come to the wedded wife ; 
She shares his duties, and hopes and fears, 
Which lessen not with the waning years. 

For a very struggle at best is life ; 

If we knew the burdens along the line 

We would shrink to receive this gift divine. 

Sometimes, in the hush of the evening hour 
She thinks of the leisure she meant to gain, 
And the work she would do with hand and brain, 

"I am tired to-night ; I am lacking power 
To think," she says : " I must wait until 
My brain is rested, and pulse is still." 

O ! Woman and Man, there is never rest. 
Dream not of a leisure that will not come 
Till age shall make you both blind and dumb.. 

You must live each day at your very best : 
The work of the w T orld is done by few ; 
God asks that a part be done by you. 

366 



BRIXGIXG OUR SHEA FES WITH US. 

Say oft' of the years as they pass from sight, 
"This, this is life, with its golden store : 
I shall have it once but it comes no more." 

Have a purpose, and do with your utmost might : 
You will finish your work on the other side, 
When you wake in His likeness satisfied. 

— Sarah Knowles Bolton. 



BANGING OUR SHELVES Wgtf US. 

fHE time for toil has past, and night has come, 
The last and saddest of the harvest eves ; 
Worn out with labor long and wearisome, 
Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home, 
Each laden with his sheaves. 

Last of the laborers, thy feet I gain, 

Lord of the harvest ! and my spirit grieves 
That I am burdened not so much with grain 
As with a heaviness of heart, of heart and brain — 
Master, behold my sheaves ! 

Few, light, and worthless — yet their trifling weight 

Through all my frame a weary aching leaves, 
For long I struggled with my hapless fate, 
And stayed and toiled till it was dark and late — 
Yet these are all my sheaves ! 

Full well I know I have more tares than wheat — 

Brambles and flowers, dry stalks and withered leaves, 
Wherefore I blush and weep, as at thy feet 
I kneel down reverently and repeat, 

"Master, behold my sheaves ! " 

367 



PUTTING OFF SALVATION. 



I know those blossoms, clustering heavily, 

With evening dew upon their folded leaves, 
Can claim no value or utility- — 
Therefore shall fragrance and beauty be 
The glory of my sheaves. 



So do I gather strength and hope anew ; 

For well I know thy patient love perceives 
Not what I did, but what I strove to do — 
And though the full, ripe ears be sadly few, 
Thou wilt accept my sheaves. 

— Elizabeth Akers. 



PUTTING 0|?|? SMlxVWN. 

|HE steamship Central America on a voyage from 
New York to San Francisco, sprang a leak iru 
mid-ocean. A vessel, noticing her signal of dis- 
tress, bore down toward her. Seeing the danger to be 
very great, the captain of the rescue ship spoke to the 
Central America: 

"What is amiss?" 

"We are in bad repair, and going down; lie by till 
morning," was the answer. 

"Let me take your passengers on board now." 

But as it was night the commander of the Central 
America did not like to send his passengers, lest some 
might be lost ; and thinking the ship could be kept 
afloat a while longer, replied: 

"Lie by till morning." 

368 



P UTTING OFF SA L VA TION. 

"Once more the captain of the rescue ship cried, 
"You had better let me take them now." 

"Lie by till morning," was sounded back through 
the trumpet. 

About an hour and a half afterward her lights were 
missed; and though no sound had been heard, the 
Central America had gone down, and all on board 
perished, just because it had been thought they could 
be saved better at another time. 

How much this reminds us of the fate that may await 
those who persist in putting off the claims of the 
Gospel! Jesus cries, "Come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Alas! 
the folly of those who answer, "Not now; wait; 'when 
I have a convenient season I will call for thee.' ' 



,^.OD wants us to work for Him, not because He 
? cannot do without us, but because we cannot do 
without Him. The busy farmer can cultivate his 
crop batter alone, but he knows that if his boy never 
learns to work, he will be worthless, and so he gives 
him a hoe and a row beside him and instructs him and 
helps him over the hard places. He does not need the 
boy, but the boy needs him. After all, God does not 
ask us to work for Him, but to work with Him. 



Jesus Christ is the friend of sinners. Not the friend 
of their sin, but of their souls, to rescue them from sin. 

369 



THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. 

fVER since the days of Cain, the way of the trans- 
I gressor has been hard; but it should not be over- 
looked that the way has been equally hard for all 
those connected with the transgressor. For no one 
ever transgressed God's law without bringing trouble 
not only on themselves, but others. 

Righteous Lot, because of the wickedness of the 
Sodomites, not only lost his property, but his wife also, 
to say nothing of his wicked sons-in-law. 

Caleb and Joshua were right in the sight of the Lord, 
and not only desired to obey Him and enter the prom- 
ised land, but had really been in it and seen its delights; 
but because the children of Israel refused to obey, they 
too, had to wander in the wilderness forty long years. 

To-day there are many such true souls who suffer be- 
cause of the rebellion of others. 

Liquor and a few men are generally at the bottom of 
strikes, loyal men are kept from work, homes are de- 
stroyed, property ruined, lives lost; the innocent suffer 
with the guilty. 

In a few hours our brightest hopes may be blasted, 
our most cherished plans destroyed by one rash act of 
a selfish person who blindly ignores the fact that all our 
lives are geared into the machinery of other lives, and 
that they may in a moment make the way of life hard 
to many others and forever destroy their brightness and 
usefulness. 



370 



••WHATEVER IS— IS BEST." 

KNOW as my life grows older, 
And mine eyes have clearer light, 
^ That under each rank wrong somewhere 

There lies the root of right ; 
That each sorrow has its purpose, 

By the sorrowing oft unguessed ; 
But as sure as the sun begins morning, 
Whatever is — is best. 

I know that each sinful action, 

As sure as night brings shade, 
Is somewhere, sometime, punished, 

Though the hour is long delayed ; 
I know that the soul is aided 

Sometimes by the heart's unrest, 
And to grow, means often to suffer, 

But whatever is — is best. 

I know there is no error 

In the great supernal plan, 
And all things work together 

For the final good of man ; 
I know when my soul speeds onward 

In its grand eternal quest, 
I shall cry as I look back earthward, 

"Whatever is — is best. " 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



The cross we pick out for ourselves is always the 
heaviest. 



37i 




LACKING SIZE. 



MISTAKES OF B&YS. 

BOY would not be worth much if he never made 
mistakes, or was never told of them. 

There is hope for a boy just in proportion to the 
number of mistakes he makes and afterward corrects. 
One of the most common mistakes a boy makes is his 
ideas in regard to size. This he hankers after most of 
all. You will see him stretch himself trying to catch 
up with his big brother or playmate, measure himself 
and scratch the wall, count the days and almost the 
hours when he will be a "man." 

Here we see him with his father's slippers, coat, cap 
and spectacles, trying to be "manly." 

Ah, boys, there is something else these days that 
counts for manliness more than size or strength. 

He is most manly who makes most of his time ; who 
has the best heart and brain. .It is not size that makes 
a man. We have seen a great six-foot specimen of 
humanity do a weak, cowardly act that ought to make 
any rightly bred seven-year-old boy blush for him. 

No, it is not size you need to be manly, neither is it 
strength, for you can be the kindest, most truthful, 
patient, happy boy in the world, making the very at- 
mosphere you live in a glorious place for yourself and 
all around you, with just the very size and strength you 
now have. Try it ! 



373 



c-^o" 



H BLESSED BANKRUPTGY. 

HEARD a man who had failed in business, and 
whose furniture was sold at auction, say that, when 
the cradle, and the piano went, tears would come, 
and he had to leave the house to be a man. Now, 
there are thousands of men who have lost their pianos, 
but who have found better music in the sound of their 
children's voices and footsteps going cheerily down to 
poverty, than any harmony of chorded instruments. 
Oh, how blessed is the bankruptcy when it saves a 
man's children! I see many men bringing up their 
children as I should bring up mine, if, when they are 
ten years old, I should lay them on the dissecting-table 
and cut the sinews of their arms and legs, so that they 
could neither walk or use their hands, but only sit still 
and be fed. Thus rich men put the knife of indolence 
and luxury to their children's energies, and they grow 
up fatty, lazy, calves, fitted for nothing at twenty-five 
but to squander wide; and the father must be a slave 
all his life, in order to make beasts of his children. 
How blessed then is the stroke of disaster which sets 
the children free and gives them over to the hard, but 
kind bosom of poverty, who says to them work! and 
working makes them men. 



One trouble with the world is that so many people 
have more reputation than character. 



374 



FN OLD PROVERB. 

v |fti OUTING, my darling, because it rains, 
r And flowers droop, and rain is falling, 

— C And drops are blurring the window panes, 

And a moaning wind through the lane is calling, 
Crying, and wishing the sky was clear, 

And roses again on the lattice twining ! 
Ah, well, remember, my foolish dear, 

" Tis easy to laugh when the sun is shining ! " 



When the world is bright, and fair and gay, 

And glad birds sing in fair June weather, 
And summer is gathering, night and day, 

Her golden chalice of sweets together, 
When the blue seas answer the skies above, 

And bright stars follow the day's declining, 
Why, then, 'tis no merit to smile, my love ; 

'"Tis easy to laugh when the sun is shining ! " 

But this is the time the heart to test, 

When winter is here and storms are howling, 
And the earth from under her frozen vest 

Looks up at the sad sky, mute and scowling ; 
The brave little spirit should rise to meet 

The season's gloom and the day's repining; 
And this is the time to be glad ; for, sweet, 

" 'Tis easy to laugh when the sun is shining ! " 



God has filled the world with things that we can see 
to tell us of things we can not see. 

3/5 



SINCERITY N0T SUFF1G1ENT. 

HE sentiment that it matters not what a man 
W believes, so that he is sincere, is as unscriptural 
^ as it is absurd. Sincerity in unbelief has no more 
effect in warding off evil in the spiritual, than in the 
natural kingdom. If the teachings and persuasions of 
a reputed chemist should prevail on you to believe that 
arsenic is harmless, would it therefore be harmless? 
Could you mix it with your bread, and you and your 
children eat it without injury to health or life? Oh, 
no ! Neither will the sincerity of your belief save you 
from the consequence of error in religious faith. Right 
belief — truth — God's truth, brethren, is the only foun- 
dation on which you can safely rest your hope." 



HE DID H1-8 i^UTY. 

HE man who has formed the habit of industry and 
$■ faithfulness will not long remain unnoticed. Though 
r ^ he may work on for months uncommended and 
apparently unseen, reward will come in due time, if he 
keeps bravely in the path of duty. 

A lad was once employed as a clerk in a large mer- 
cantile house which employed as entry clerks, shipping- 
clerks, buyers, bookkeepers, salesmen, eighty young 
men, besides a small army of porters, packers and truck- 
men. 

The boy of seventeen felt that amid such a crowd he 

376 



HE DID HIS DUTY. 



was lost to notice, and any efforts he might make would 
be unregarded. 

Nevertheless, he did his duty; every morning at eight 
o'clock he was promptly in his place, and every power 
he possessed was brought to bear upon his work. After 
he. had been there a year he had occasion to ask a 
week's leave of absence during the busy season. "That," 
was the response, 'is an unusual request, and one which 
it is somewhat inconvenient for us to grant; but for the 
purpose of showing you that we appreciate the efforts 
you have made since you have been with us, we take 
pleasure in giving you the leave of absence for which 
you ask." 

"I didn't think," said the boy, when he came home 
that night and related his success, "that they knew a 
thing about me, but it seems they have watched me 
ever since I have been with them." 

They had, indeed, watched him, and had selected 
him for advancement, for shortly after he was promoted 
to a position of trust, with appropriate increase of sal- 
ary. Conscientious devotion to duty seldom fails. 



f PI LOT was once asked if he knew all the rocks, 
along the coast. "No," said he, "it is not neces- 
^^ essary to know all the rocks, only the safe chan- 
nel. " Remember, though Christ has promised us a 
safe landing, he has not promised us a calm passage. 



377 



718 E^SY T@ LHB0R. 

|§f'IS easy to labor with hope as our guide, 

To beckon us onward and brighten the way ; 
To strengthen the heart till all foes are defied, 
And strengthen the arm till all work is as play. 

"Tis easy to conquer when friends us surround, 
Ever sweet words of comfort to speak in our ear ; 

To keep doubt away that else darkly had frowned, 
And keep from our vision the phantoms of fear. 

But what, when the sweet star of Hope that did guide 
Is hidden by clouds that it may not dispart ? 

And what if the comforting friends at thy side, 

Stand silent or' croak with the doubt in thy heart ? 

Oh ! give me the heart that through silence of friend 
May walk in the light, or with darkness may cope ; 

Oh ! give me the heart which, if need, to the end 
May even fight on in the hope of a hope. 

Yes, bravely strike forward, though left in the dark, 
Still keeping the course that it held through the 
light ; 
Yes, strike and keep striking, lit but by the spark 
Which its brave, ceasless strokes bring out of the 
night. 



Keep up with your profession if you are going 
to follow it. 

378 



TRUE REST. 

IIEST is the highest condition of man. It is above 
|| work. For to work restingly, noiselessly, peace- 
^ fully, lovingly, trustingly, is the perfection of work. 
The maturity of everything is rest. It is an approach 
to the Eternal One. For what is rest? The balance 
of the mind — the equipoise of feeling — a harmony of 
the inner with the outer life — the peace of desire — the 
response of the consciousness of truth. And where is 
that rest to be found? All heaven and earth answer: 
" In God — only in God! " Let the years that are past 
speak. They have given you almost everything, but 
one thing is wanting — rest. With many of us life has 
nearly been made up of going from mountain to hill, 
and forgetting our resting-place. A thousand things 
we have learned, and one after another they have thrown 
us off — as if they said to us indignantly, ' ' Arise ye, 
and depart,, for this is not your rest! " If there is any- 
thing we have learned in the pages of the past, it is this: 
there may be much pleasure, there may be much joy, 
there may be much love; but there is no rest out of God. 

— Rev. Jas. Vaughan. 



God never hears the prayer of a man who locks up 
his money before he gets down on his knees. 



Until we have given ourselves to God we haven't 
given Him anything. 

379 



B@NT BE DISCOURAGED, 

IF a man loses his property at thirty or forty years of 
age, it is only a sharp discipline generally, by which 
■^ latter he comes to large success. It is all folly for a 
man to sit down in middle life discouraged. The mar- 
shals of Napoleon came to their commander and said: 
''We have lost the battle and we are being cutto pieces.'' 
Napoleon took his watch from his pocket and said. "It 
is only two o'clock in the afternoon. You have lost the 
battle, but we have time to win another. Charge upon 
the foe! " Let our readers who have been unsuccessful 
thus far in the battle of life not give up in despair. 
With energy and God's blessing, they may yet win a 
glorious victory. 



PRJ1EN6E, 

|OTHER, why do all these years 
Sit so lightly on thy brow ? 
Prithee, tell us why no tears 

Ever dim thy sweet eyes now, 
And the furrows, it appears, 
Father Time will not allow. 



Why the single threads are few 
Mingled with thy nut-brown hair ; 

For of sorrow's blight, 'tis true, 

Thou hast had more than thy share, 

And we know life's somber hue 
Often traces lines of care. 

380 




A KISS NOW AND THEN. 

Ah ! 'tis patience that has wrought 
All this sweetness in thy life, 

And with soothing fingers brought 
Strength to meet thy every strife ; 

Patience toned thy every thought, 
Though each day with care was rife. 

And thy Christian life has been 
An example wondrous rare, 

An example that must win 
Admiration everywhere. 

Thou hast let the sunlight in 
Thy brave heart to banish care. 



Patience sweet is still thy guest, 

Though the middle line is pass'd, 
On the journey to thy rest, 

Rest which thou shalt win at last. 
May thy pathway yet be blest, 

And with thornless roses mass'd. 

— Ella Martin. 



R KISS NOW AND TH^H 

fOU may bring me the choicest of fruits and of flowers, 
The daintiest morsels that money can buy, 
To cheer me and comfort me in the dark hours, 
When under the shadows of sickness I lie ; 
The couch may be soft, and the noises around me 

Subdued, so I hear not a single footfall, 
And though grateful for this, yet I cannot help thinking, 
That a kiss now and then would be better than all. 

381 



A KISS NOW AND THEN. 

A kiss now and then ! How it lightens our labors ! 

It brightens our homes, and it sweetens the crust ; 
And when from the lips of a loved one 'tis given, 

It adds to our joy, and increases our trust. 
The children demand it with innocent coaxings, 

And who will deny that our great bearded men 
Are better prepared for the conflicts they're waging, 

If somebody gives them a kiss now and then ? 

It softens the heart of the variest miser ; 

'Tis ample reward for much trouble and stress ; 
And none are the poorer — nay, rather the richer — 

For now and then giving a kiss or caress. 
These delicate tokens of love and affection 

We may in our folly pretend to despise, 
But when there's neglect of these little attentions, 

What heart-aches, and heart-breaks, and burnings arise ! 

Rich fruits and bright flowers may please for a moment, 

But, oh! they've no power to help or to heal 
Like the lingering touch that so fondly and truly 

Express the tender emotion you feel. 
Though the table may groan 'neath the weight of its viands, 

And money be plenty, the heart may not thrive ; 
And there's many, oh, many a lonely one sighing 

For a kiss now and then, just to keep them alive." 



Bishop Whipple once remarked: "As the grave 
grows nearer my theology is growing strangely simple, 
it begins and ends with Christ as the only refuge for 
the lost." 



382 



i 



THOUGHTS PR MOTHERS. 

EAR mothers, in your zeal to reprove the children 
for wrong-doing, do not forget to commend them 
when they do well. The thought that this or 
that act will grieve or please mother, is a strong incen- 
tive on one hand to well-doing, or on the other a check 
on evil-doing. Commendation should be of such a 
nature as to build up a child's self-respect, and not such 
as to make him vain, else the good effect will be lost. 
The love of approbation is natural; God has planted it 
in the human heart, consequently it has its uses. It 
follows then, if a mother does not make use of this 
divinely implanted feeling, she wrongs the Creator of 
the human heart, as well as the child given her. Ap- 
probation may be expressed by approving words, 
smiles, or rewards. You remember the anecdote of 
Benjamine West, whose mother kissed him for one of 
his earliest efforts with the pencil. "That kiss," said 
he, "made me a painter." Behold the life-directing, 
life-lasting power of a mother's kiss! 

Mothers, perhaps the fire of genius lies hidden in 
your children's hearts only waiting to be lighted with a 
word from you. Oh, do not fail to supply it. 



If God were as slow to forgive sins as church mem- 
bers are to forgive offences, or wrong-doings repented 
of, there would be little chance for many of us. 

— C. H. Spurgeon. 
383 




A RIEIMDLY HAND. 

|Ic HEN a man ' aint got a cent, and he's feelin' 
kind o' blue, 



An' the clouds hang dark and heavy, an' 
won't let the sunshine through, 
It's a great thing, oh, my brethren, for a feller just 

to lay 
His hand upon your shoulder in a friendly sort o' way ! 

It makes a man look curious ; it makes the tear-drops 

start, 
And you sort o' feel a flutter in the region of your 

heart. 
You can't look up 1 and meet his eyes ; you don't know 

what to say, 
When his hand is on your shoulder in a friendly sort 

o' way ! 

O, the world's a curious compound, with its honey and 

its gall, 
With its cares and bitter crosses ; but a good world 

after all. 
And a good God must have made it — leastways that's 

what I say 
When a hand rests on my shoulder in a friendly sort 

o' way ! 



Good thoughts are not lost though they are not prac- 
ticed. 



384 



INDUSTRY- 
SHE way to wealth is as plain as the way to market. 
W It depends chiefly on two words, industry and fru- 
gality; that is, waste neither time nor money, but 
make the best use of both. Without industry and fru- 
gality, nothing will do, and with them, everything. 

Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; 
he that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce 
overtake his business at night, while laziness travels so 
slowly that poverty soon overtakes him. 

Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hopes 
will die fasting. There are no gains without pains; 
then help, hands, for I have no lands; or if I have, they 
are smartly taxed. He that hath a trade hath an estate, 
and he that hath a calling hath an office of profit and 
honor, but then the trade must be worked at, and the 
calling followed, or neither the estate nor the office will 
enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we 
shall never starve; for, at the workingman's house, 
hunger looks in, but dares not enter Nor will the bail- 
iff or constable enter, for industry pays debts, while 
despair increaseth them. 

Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leis- 
ure; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not 
away an hour. 

Leisure is time for doing something useful; this leis- 
ure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; 
for a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. 

— Franklin. 



385 



GLPSS NUMBER ONE. 

•'^LASS number one, "only in fun ;" 
*vSf Glass number two, " other boys do ; " 

W* Glass number three, " it won't hurt me ; " 
Glass number four, " only one more ; " 
Glass number five, "before a drive ; " 
Glass number six, " brain in a mix ; " 
Glass number seven, stars in heaven ; 
Glass number eight, stars in his plate ; 
Glass number nine, whiskey, not wine ; 
Glass number ten, drinking again ; 
Glass number twenty, not yet a plenty ; 

Drinking with beys, drowning his joys : 
Drinking with men, just now and then ; 
Wasting his life, killing his wife ; 
Losing respect, manhood all wrecked, 
Losing his friends, thus all ends. 



& 



Glass number one, taken in fun, 
Ruined his life, brought on strife ; 
Blighted his youth, ruled his truth ; 
Gave only pain, stole all his gain ; 
Made him at last a friendless outcast. 



Light-hearted boy, somebody's joy, 
Do not begin early in sin ; 
Grow up a man brave as you can ; 
Taste not in fun glass number one. 



;S6 



•INSPIRING GBN^DENGE. 

j^ENRY Ward Beecher certainly owed a debt of 
gratitude to his teacher in mathematics, not only 
for the knowledge acquired through his tuition, but 
for lessons tending to strength of character. He tells 
this story to illustrate the teacher's method. 

He was sent to the black-board, and went, uncertain, 
soft, full of whimpering. 

"That lesson must be learned," said the teacher, in a 
very quiet tone, but with terrible intensity. All expla- 
nations and excuses he trod under foot with utter scorn- 
fulness. "I want that problem; I don't want any reason 
why you didn't get it," he would say. 

''I did study it two hours." 

"That's nothing to me; I want the lesson. You need 
not study it so long or you may study it ten hours, just 
suit yourself. I want the lesson " 

"It was tough for a green boy," says Beecher, "but 
it seasoned me. In less than a month I had the most 
intense sense of intellectual independency and courage 
to defend my recitations. His cold and calm voice 
would fall upon me in the midst of a demonstration, 
1 No !' " 

"I hesitated, and then went back to the beginning, 
and on reaching the same spot again, 'No !' uttered 
with the tone of conviction, barred my progress. 

" 'The next,' and I sat down in a red confusion. 

"He, too, was stopped with 'No!' but went right on, 

38; 



TEN LITTLE FINGERS. 



finished, and, as he sat down was rewarded with, 'very 
well.' 

"Why," whimpered I, "I recited it just as he did, and 
you said 'No.' 

" ' Why didn't you say 'Yes,' and stick to it ? It is 
not enough to know your lesson. You must know that 
you know it. You have learned nothing till you are 
sure. If all the world says ' No!' your business is to 
say 'Yes ! ' and prove it. w 



TEN MTTliE FWGER& 

;NLY ten little fingers ! 

Not very strong, tis true ; 
Yet there is work for Jesus 

Our little hands may do. 
What though it be but humble, 

Winning no word of praise ; 
We are but little children, 

Working in little ways. 

Only ten little fingers ! 

But little things may grow ; 
And little hands now helpless 

Will not always be so. 
And if we train them early, 

Unto His work alone, 
They will do great service 

When they are stronger grown. 

Only a band of children 

Sitting at Jesus' feet, 
Fitting ourselves to enter 

Into his service sweet. 

338 



NEVER MIND. 



Softly his voice is calling-, 
11 Little ones, come unto me ! 

Stay not though weak and helpless ; 
Child, I have need of thee." 



Take us, dear Saviour, take us 

Into thy heavenly fold ; 
Keep our young hearts from strayin; 

Into the dark and cold. 
Call us thy " little helpers," 

Glad in thy work to share ; 
Make us thine own dear children, 

Worthy thy name to bear. 



NEVER MIND. 

IfF the world don't go to suit you, 
§ 1 Why repine ? 

^F Will your caring change the matter, 
Friend of mine ? 
Take life easy ; it is better, 

You will find. 
Take no trouble, laugh it off, and 
Never mind. 

Eat your hard crust easy-hearted, 
With a jest. 

Frowns nor tears will help the matter- 
Let it rest. 

Troubles will not come so thickly, 
You will find, 

If unlooked for ; laugh them off, and 
Never mind. 



;S9 



|HER tHE^D G0T TURNED. 

Y way of telling what effect the world has upon 
women, let me tell what it has done for a woman 
whose name is known from east to west, in every 
home where good literature is seen. About fifteen 
years ago she began to write. Each bit was her best, 
till on the appearance of one novel, a book that stirred 
this country and England, it was said: ''The next book 
she writes will be the great American novel; she is the 
best writer of our country." She was the worshiped 
woman of the finest, most learned, most cultivated 
society where she lived. Then she met some gayer 
people in this life of ovation; more showy, but less true. 
Her head got turned, her ideas and ideals became 
changed, and some portions of her last novel were ex- 
pergated by the publishers as being too suggestive. 
The woman who of all America could have had her 
country at her feet, wears upon her arm as a bracelet 
the collar of the smallest pug dog in the world, given 
her by a senseless fob of Boston. The duties she owes 
her husband if not the husband himself, are forgotten in 
the gay whirl of the world into which her desire for a 
name and reputation have led her. She is a woman of 
the working world. God pity her! 

— Perry Pensell. 



An observer says the less men think the more they 
talk. 

390 



STRENGTH OF 8MRRTOTER. 

.^jjIFE mistake strong feeling to be strong character. 
W/;Vy ^ man wno bears all before him — before whose 

^js^j f rown domestics tremble, and whose bursts of 
fury make the children of the house quake — because he 
has his will obeyed, and his own way in all things, we 
call him a strong man. The truth is, he is a weak man; 
it is his passions that are strong; he, mastered by them 
is weak. You must measure the strength of a man by 
the power of the feelings he subdues, not by the power 
of those which subdue him. Hence, composure is very 
often the highest result of strength. Did we ever see a 
man receive a flat grand insult, and only grow pale and 
then reply quietly? That was a man spiritually strong. 
Or did we ever see a man in anguish, stand as if carved 
out of the solid rock, mastering himself, or one bearing 
a hopeless daily trial, remain silent and never tell the 
world what it was that cankered his home peace? 

That is strength. He who, with strong passions, 
remains chaste — he, who, keenly sensitive, with manly 
power of indignation in him, can be provoked, yet can 
restrain himself and forgive— these are strong men, 
spiritual heroes. 

— F. W. Robertson, D. D. 



As sure as God puts His children in the furnace, he 
will be in the furnace with them. 

— C. H. Spurgeon. 
391 



THE WN WHO RliW/WS SMILES. 

HERE are those who govern nations, who can lead their 
MBS fellow-men, 

^p Who gain a vast abundance by the toil of hands and 
pen ; 
Who can paint a sunset glowing, who can show the world the 

right, 
Who can lend the glare of noon time to the darkening hours 
of night. 

They're the ones that get the notice, and the praising goes 

their way ; 
For they're standing out from others in the open light of day ; 
But some men who never governed, never painted, never 

wrote, 
Who never preached a sermon, do our happiness promote. 

It's the man who's always cheerful, with a ready laugh and 

jest, 
Who's presence e'en is livening, with its bright contagious 

zest ; 
The man who's friends are countless, whom no one e'er 

reviles, 
Original pack of sprightliness, the man who always smiles. 



His house may not a mansion be, his place inside the line 
Where common people stand and note their richer neighbors 

shine ; 
But yet his life's a grander one, though lacking much of 

styles, 
His title is the prince of hope, the man who always smiles. 

392 



THE MAS WHO ALWAYS SMILES. 

Though he never limned a landscape, he's an artist in his 

way, 
He's a picture fair of joyousness in a frame that's always 

gay. 
His life's a useful sermon, he's a preacher all the while, 
And he's better off than governors, the man who always 

smiles. 

He's one of life's physicians, without antidotes or pills, 
His cures are freely given to all men's current ills ; 
He's a missionary worker, leaving out the Heathen isles, 
And he's aiming straight for Heaven, the man who always 
smiles. 



Then worship, still, our mighty men who lead us in the 
might, 

Who teaches us and who tells us how to work and act aright ; 

But leave a thought for this one, too, he who our mind be- 
guiles, 

Doff your hat and speak a cheery word to the man who always 
smiles. 

— Fred. E. Smith. 



f^[T. FRANCIS once said to a brother, "Come, let 
Si let us go out to preach." They walked out and 
St. Francis gave bread to the poor and smiles to 
all, but he did not speak a word. When they came 
home his brother said: "But we did not preach." 
"Yes," said Francis, "for men have looked at us. We 
preach by our looks and acts." Do we preach thus? 
Paul did. 



393 



THE W/w Of 7 PLEASANTNESS, 

•p VERY woman has an inherent longing to be at- 

ffi^J tractive, and if she has not, she should have. 

^ For what would this chaos, doubt and strife of 

our daily warfare become, were it not that sweet woman 

interfuses into it her calming, cheering influences? 

And the natural attribute men pay to woman's at- 
tractive qualities is admiration. If woman is incapable 
of appreciating the homage of man, and treats his 
highest gift as though it were vanity, she makes a seri- 
ous mistake. 

How can a girl best gain the love and respect of 
others? This is an all important query, and it is best 
answered by a concrete illustration drawn from real life. 
Miss A is beautiful. Her picturesque form and mag- 
nificent face are always the same, with a cold, distant 
aspect which even her undoubted beauty does not 
redeem from reproach. Miss B is neither talented nor 
yet so lovely, but she meets one heart to heart, and 
her continued pleasantness has a charm which draws 
around her a devoted circle of appreciative friends. 
She is her father's confident, her mother's joy, the re- 
cipient of her brother Jack's love trouble and sister 
Nellie's struggles with French. 

Ah, girls! The snowiest skin will some day be sal- 
low; the flush of youth will disappear; the bright eye 
grow dim and the nervy limb be uncertain and feeble. 
But this inward loveliness, this beauty of the spirit, is 

394 



TKAXCIEXT TRO UBLES. 

born of Heaven and knows no death. The tender 
ministries of Miss B will creep into any true heart, 
sooner than Miss A's icy beauty. Such a woman in 
any home is a glimpse of God's sunshine. Beauty and 
genius are the gifts of providence, but a good heart all 
can cultivate. 



TRP61ENT TROUBLES. 

fTI IpOST of us have had troubles all our lives, 
:]_/ \- and each day has brought all the evil we wished 
^m^^ to enc j ure . But if we were asked to recount 
the sorrows of our lives, how many could we remember? 
How many that are six months old should we think 
worth to be remembered or mentioned? To-day's 
troubles look large, but a week hence they will be for- 
gotten and buried out of sight. 

If you would keep a book, and every day put down 
the things that worry you, and see what becomes of 
them, it would be a benefit to you. You allow a thing 
to annoy you, just as you allow a fly to settle on you 
and plague you; and you lose your temper (or rather 
get it; for when men are surcharged with temper they 
are said to have lost it ;) and you justify yourself for 
being thrown off your balance by causes which you 
do not trace out. But if you would see what it was 
that threw you off your balance before breakfast, and 
put it down in a little book, and follow it out, and 
ascertain what becomes of it, you would see what a 
fool you were in the matter. 

395 



MTMN Of THANKSGIVING. 



The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but the art of 
overlooking is quite as important. And if we should 
take time to write down the origin, the progress, and 
outcome of a few of our troubles, it would make us 
ashamed of the fuss we make over them, and we should 
be glad to drop such things and bury them at once in 
eternal forgetfulness. Life is too short to be worn out 
in petty worries, frettings, hatreds, and vexations. Let 
us think only on whatsoever things are pure, and lovely, 
and gentle, and of good report. 



HYMN @F THANKSGIVING. 

RftRAISE to God, immortal praise, 
J5 For the love that crowns our days ; 
< Bounteous source of every joy, 

Let thy praise our tongues employ ! 

For the blessing of the field, 
For the stores the gardens yield, 
For the vine's exalted juice, 
For the generous olive's youth ; 

Flocks that whiten all the plain, 
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain, 
Clouds that drop their flattering dews, 
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse ; 

All that spring with bounteous hand, 
Scatters o'er the smiling land ; 
All that liberal autumn pours 
From her rich o'er-flowing stores ; 

30 



HYMX OF THAXKSGIVISG. 

These to Thee, my God, we owe — 
Source whence all our blessings flow ! 
And for these my soul shall raise 
Greatful vows and solemn praise. 

Yet should rising whirlwinds tear 
From his stem the ripening ear, 
Should the fig tree's blasted shoot 
Drop her green, untimely fruit ; 

Should the vine put forth no more, 
Nor the olive yield her store, 
Though the sickening flocks shall fail, 
And the herds desert the stall ; 

Should thine altered hand restrain 
The early and the later rain, 
Blast each opening bud of joy, 
And the rising year destroy — 

Yet to Thee my soul shall raise 
Greatful vows and solemn praise, 
And, when every blessing flown, 
Love Thee — for Thyself alone. 

— Anna Letitia Barbauld. 



Lose not thine own for want of asking for it; it will 
bring thee no thanks. 



Great things are not accomplished by idle dreams, 
but by years of patient study. 

397 




CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 



CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 

|p|EAR readers, please allow a few words in regard 
to the preparation of Christmas gifts. I do not 
mean our quiet home affairs, but the public ones, 
those usually given in church. It has been said no 
church will prosper, no souls be saved, where such 
things are allowed in the church, on account of the 
envy, strife and hard feelings usually gotten up at such 
times. 

Shall this be true of your church? If not, be care- 
ful what you do, and how you do. Avoid the spirit of 
striving to outdo others. Do not buy anything you 
are not able to get, because others will do so and so. 
Do not make gifts for the rich and neglect the poor. 
Do not knowinglv wound another's feelings. Strive to 
make hearts glad because it is Christmas, instead of 
painfully reminding them of something they would like 
to do if they had the means. 

Remember whose birthday we are celebrating and 
let everything be done in the spirit and harmony of 
such an important event. 



WORDS Of 7 WISDOM- 

[||E up and doing. "Life is real, life is earnest." 
Negligence now may place the invaluable prize of 
immortality beyond your reach forever, no matter 

how much you might desire to strive hereafter to attain 

it. 

— Addison. 
399 



NOBILITY. 

RUE worth is in being, not seeming ; 
Wlpf: In doing, each day that goes by 
^ J Some little good — not in dreaming 
Of great things to do by and by. 
For, what ever men say in their blindness 

And in spite of the fancies of youth, 
There's nothing so kingly as kindness, 
And nothing so royal as truth. 

We get back our mete as we measure — 

We cannot do wrong and feel right, 
Nor can we give pain and feel pleasure, 

For justice avenges each slight. 
The air for the wing of a sparrow ; 

The bush for the robin or wren, 
But always the path that is narrow 

And straight for the children of men. 

We cannot make bargains for blisses 

Nor catch them like fishes in nets ; 
And sometimes the thing our life misses, 

Helps more than the thing which it gets ; 
For good lieth not in pursuing, 

Nor gaining of great nor of small, 
But just in the doing, and doing 

As we would be done by, is all. 

— Alice Cary. 



Society says one thing, and nature says another. 

400 



[F0REIGN WSSWNW WORK. 

WHERE are many christian people who are doings 
nothing at all in this direction simply because they 
^ J do not know what to do; do not realize the claims 
God has upon them in this direction. 

The command — "Go ye into all the world and preach 
the gospel to every creature," is as binding upon 
Christ's disciples to-day, as it was to the little band 
who clustered around Him and received His parting 
words just before He was received up into Heaven. 

But you say, "I cannot go." 

Perhaps God does not want you to go. But there 
are many who are willing and anxious to go if they 
only had the means to do so, and you are just as truly 
helping to preach if you are giving all you can to help 
others, as if you were there in person, unless God has 
especially called you. 

Then, dear readers, what is your part in this great 
work? If you do not go, what will you give to send 
the gospel to those who sit in darkness? 

True giving is not the throwing in of a large sum, 
and then sitting down and telling of it the rest of the 
year, but it is the daily sacrifice, the daily cross, the 
daily denying of self, that counts most in the eyes of 
Him who notices even the widow's mite. 

Just how far one can deny self, must be determined 
between self and love for Christ. Those who seem to 
love most seem to find most ways to work for Him. 

A few years ago when the famine was in China, and 

401 



FOREIGN MISSIONARY WORK. 



the call came to our people for help, I knew a woman 
to feel so badly because she had no money to give, 
that she began to study how she could deny herself of 
even the seeming necessities of life, that she might 
help sustain the lives of others. 

At the end of three months she had saved and sent 
to China seven dollars and fifty cents; but she had not 
eaten a piece of pie or cake, or tasted any delicacy dur- 
ing the time, and as often as practicable, had deprived 
her family of them. But so skillfully did she keep her 
left hand from knowing what the right hand did, that 
not even her husband suspected what she was doing. 
To-day, through a habit of self-denial and God's bless- 
ing, she is able to give much more for suffering hu- 
manity, and devote considerable of her time to the 
Lord's work. 

Where there is a will to do, it will not be lone before 
there is away. The trouble generally is, we are not 
willing to work in any way, we want our own way, and 
as we can hardly ever have things go as we like, we 
hardly ever do anything. 

These things ought not so to be. Time is so short, 
the race so quickly run, the rest so sweet, the prize so 
great, it pays to give up worldly pleasure and follow 
Him who "so loved us that He gave himself for us that 
he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify unto 
Himself a peculiar people zealous of good works." 



He receives a benefit who bestows one on a worthy 
person. 

402 



IT NEVER PAYS. 

tT never pays to fret or growl 
When fortune seems our foe ; 
•^ The better bred will push ahead 
And strike the braver blow. 
For luck is work, 
And those who shirk 
Should not lament their doom : 
But yield the play 
And clear the way, 
That better men have room. 

It never pays to foster pride, 

And squander wealth in show ; 
For friends thus won are sure to run 
In times of want or woe. 

The noble worth 

Of all the earth 
Are gems of heart and brain — 

A conscience clear, 

A household dear, 
And hands without a stain. 

It never pays to hate a foe 

Or cater to a friend. 
To fawn and whine, much less repine^ 
To borrow or to lend. 

The faults of men 

Are fewer when 
Each rows his own canoe, 

For friends and debts 

Are pampered pets, 
Unbounded mischief brew. 

403 



IT NEVER PAYS. 

It never pays to wreck the health 

In drudging after gain. 
And he is sold who thinks that gold 
Is cheaply bought with pain. 

A humble lot, 

A cosy cot, 
Have tempted even kings, 

For station high 

That wealth will buy, 
Naught of contentment brings. 

It never pays ! A blunt refrain, 

Well worthy of a song ; 
For age and youth must learn the truth 
That nothing pays that's wrong. 

The good and pure 

Alone are sure 
To bring prolonged success ! 

While what is right 

In heaven's sight 
Is always sure to bless." 



""Industry makes a man a purse, and carefulness gives 
him the strings to it. He that has it need only draw 
the strings as carefulness directs, and he will always 
find a useful penny at the bottom of it." 



It is, after all, the person who stakes the least who 
loses the most. In the affections this is wholly true. 
He who risks nothing loses everything. 



404 



WORK. 

-JSSIO work to-day in my vineyard," is the divine order. 

In v^ . 

AJMJ God will have no idlers. Nor does he specify in 
^ all cases what we shall do. He says work. 

"In my vineyard." The vineyard or the field of the 
Lord is the world. In the vineyard there is the setting 
out of new plants, pruning, tying up, grafting, gather- 
ing fruit, carrying food and drink to the workers, wait- 
ing and tending, filling gaps, mending the wall, build- 
ing hedges, keeping accounts. 

If we cannot do one thing let us do another — serving 
according to our opportunity and ability. The Lord 
by his providence and spirit will direct, and if we go 
forward in a w r illing and obedient spirit we shall find 
enough to do. 



A K-IND WORD, 

||I; HO can tell the value of a kind word? It is so 

A |! easily spoken, but may never be forgotten, and 
may have an influence for eternity. 

Ah, we too often forget our Lord's example: ''All 
wondered at the gracious words w T hich proceeded out 
of his mouth." The bible enjoins us: "Be ye kind 
to one another. Be ye pitiful; be courteous." 

Robert Lawrence had been hardened by a long 
course of evil, and when he found himself within the 
prison walls he grew desperate. A gentleman who 

405 



A KIND WORD. 



visited him tried in vain to awaken remorse, and bring- 
him to a sense of sin. 

"My poor fellow, I would give anything to save 
you!" exclaimed the visitor at last, laying his hand 
upon the convict's shoulder. 

"Why?" asked the man hoarsely. 

"Because my Master loves you, and because he has 
put it into my heart to care for you," was the reply. 

There was such earnestness and pity in the tone that 
the convict bowed his head in shame. Did the gentle- 
man really care for him? Did he want to save him 
from the place to w T hich the wicked go if they do not 
repent? And should the sinner neglect the way of 
escape ? Was he any longer to harden his heart against 
the only friend who seemed to take an interest in 
him? 

"Tell me what I am to do," he said at last. 

The gentleman prayed for him, and opened to him 
"a door of hope," telling of one mighty to save. Be- 
fore he left the dismal cell the visitor had the joy of 
hearing the prisoner pleading for mercy, crying in 
bitterness of spirit, "God be merciful to me, a sinner! ' 



Before you set about asking for God's blessing, make 
sure you have earned it. 



Knowledge, like money, increases your responsibil- 
ity in proportion to the amount obtained. 



406 



THE USEFUL GIRL 

^ER face, though not so handsome as some, 
Is yet attractively sweet ; 
Her dress, though not a costly one, 
Is tasteful, nice and neat. 



She lightens her mother of many cares ; 

To her father she is kind, — 
Showing in many remarkable ways, 

A well directed mind. 



She can wash, sew, sweep and cook, 

And do it deftly, too, 
And she can enjoy a new book 

As well as even you. 

She can beautiful fancy work do, 
In the genuine Kensington stich ; 

She can sing, and play the organ, too ; 
From low to highest pitch. 

She can harness the team, and drive to town j 
And, it may be shocking to you, 

But she can run the reaper and gather corn 
And be a lady, too. 

As our matrimonial ticket is drawn for life, 

And it's either win or lose — 
Young man in search of a wife 

The useful girl will you choose ? 



407 



H PEW T^BLE "BBN^S; 

|ON'T smack your lips. 

Don't take large mouthfuls. ' 

Don't use your knife instead of your fork. 

Don't find fault and kick about your food. 

Don't talk with your mouth filled with food. 

Don't soil the table-cloth with bones, parings, etc. 

Don't commence eating as soon as you are seated. 

Don't laugh loudly, or talk boisterously at the table. 

Don't retail all the slanders you can think of at the 
table. 

Don't take bones up in your fingers to eat the meat 
from them. 

Don't call attention to any little mistake which may 
have occurred. 

Don't make yourself and your own affairs the chief 
topic of the conversation. 

Don't take another mouthful, while any of the pre- 
vious one remains in the mouth. 

Don't blow your food in order to cool it. 

Don't reach across the table for anything; but wait 
till it is passed to you, or ask for it. 

Don't put your elbows on the table or lounge about; 
if not able to sit erect, ask to be excused. 

Don't frown or look cross at the table; it hurts your 
own digestion as well as that of those eating with you. 

Don't pick your teeth unless something has become 
edged between them, then put your napkin to your 
mouth while extracting it." 



408 



0VER6OMING EVIL 
|F wo wish to overcome evil we must overcome it by 



ofOOcl. 



There are doubtless many ways of overcoming 
the evil of our own hearts, but the simplest, easiest, 
most universal is to overcome it by active occupation in 
some good word or work. The best antidote against 
evils of all kinds, against the evil thoughts which haunt 
the soul, against the heedless perplexities which distract 
the conscience, is to keep hold of the good we have. 
Impure thoughts will not stand against pure words and 
prayers and deeds. Little doubts will not avail against 
great certainties. Fix your affections on things above, 
and you will be less and less troubled by the cares, the 
temptations, the troubles and things on earth. 



THOUGHTS 0f? MPY HEARTS. 

JSREGARD or excuse your small fault, and you 
commit a greater one. 

Talk little of your own grievances, or of others' 
misdoings. 

Converse with those that will do you good, or to 
whom you may do good. 

By not grasping at all within your reach, learn to 
bear the loss of what is out of your reach. 

Do not wipe out others' blots with smeared fingers.. 

409. 



DON'T WHISK. 

If someone says ill of you, do not ask who it was; 
so you can mend yourself and not be tempted to com- 
mit a new fault. 

Who spends before he thrives, will beg before he 
thinks. 

He is evil who is willing to make evil men his 
friends. 

Small faults, not mended in their beginning, become 
great faults in the end. 

Charity is the way of man to God and the way of 
God to man. 



I30N7 WHINE. 

OOD people have a right to cast their burdens upon 
f the Lord. But no one has a right to attempt to 
impose upon the Lord by the presentation of fic- 
titious burdens, or to come into the Divine presence 
whining and finding fault with the allotments of Provi- 
dence. Some people get into the habit of whining. 
They might have gotten into it sometime when they 
were really in trouble, and have forgotten to change 
their tone with their changed circumstances. I have 
known some persons to get so addicted to this thing 
that they would use the same whining tone in ordinary 
•conversation, even when speaking upon the most joy- 
ous and cheerful topics. Sometimes I imagine they 
think it pious, a sort of holy tone. It is as far from 
the expression of the robust, cheerful, loving, hopeful, 
grateful holiness of the Bible, as the whine of 
the spaniel is from the songs of the happy birds of 

410 



THE QUIET HOUR. 

spring. So far from being holy, it is an abomination 
in the ear of the Giver of every good and perfect gift. 
Weep if you are afflicted. Groan if you are in pain. 
Cast your burden upon the Lord. He will sympathize 
with you and sustain you. He has promised it. But 
God has no promises for them that whine. Whatever 
you do, then, do not whine. 

—J. S. Smart, D. D. 



THE 8UIE7 tfBUR. 

IS sweet to drop all anxious care, 
WW To simply rest ; 

%J To know that for the present hour 
The soul is blest. 

To cast all burdens at the feet 

Of Christ, the Lord ; 
To let the soul go out and find 

Its Savior, God. 

The high and holy thoughts that come 

With soothing calm, 
Are like the zephyrs from the south, 

Laden with balm. 

What if the future has some pain 

Hidden from view, 
This quiet hour will give thee strength 

To dare and do. 

Like happy bird with joyous song 

That seeks its nest, 
Refreshed and soothed and filled with hope, 

The soul is blest. 

411 



THE QUIET HOUR. 

Oh, quiet hour so full of peace, 

So full of love, 
So full of sunlight from the throne, 

Of God above. 

We greet thee like a precious friend, 

We feel thy power, 
Glad refuge in a weary land, 

Oh, holy hour ! 

— Eliza H. Morton. 



•f*& 




PERSONAL WORK, 

JTT is very pleasant to have company in a good work. 
It is very assuring to be backed by a strong organi- 
^ zation when one attacks a great evil. But God has 
generally singled out individual men to perform a great 
work. Moses did not wait for a vote of the Sanhedrim 
before he destroyed Aaron's calf. John the Baptist 
did not submit his sermon on repentance for the ap- 
proval of a council of Pharisees before he dared to 
preach it. Lovejoy did not wait for the consent of con- 
servative orthodoxy before he told his Alton neighbors 
it was a sin to buy and sell men. Moody is not against 
the church of to-day, but ahead of it. If the Church 
can tolerate men of crooked lives professing holiness, 
Moody will call saints from both hemispheres to pray 
them out of Northfield. Dr. Cullis may not be able to 
get a popular sect to sanction the healing of the sick 
by the prayer of faith, but hundreds of individuals will 
flock to him and become glad witnesses to the fact that 
Jesus Christ has lost none of his power over the bodies 
of men. 

Order is good; system is good; yet God wrought 
mightily with Gideon, David and Samson, though they 
departed somewhat from common military tactics. 
Better far the living disorder of apostolic preaching, 
though it be said to turn the world upside down, than 
the dead forms of a worn-out ritual that leave men to 
perish in their sins. So in our time God has been 
pleased to smite giant evils by the hand of one man 

4i3 



SOMETHING TO AVOID. 



rather than at first by the united blow of a multitude. 
Not Catholic, not Episcopalian, not Independent smote 
the slave trade, but William Wilberforce. Not Presby- 
terian, not Methodist, not Baptist smote slavery, but 
William Lloyd Garrison. Not order, not sect, not 
convention smote rum, but Neal Dow. Christian men 
and Christian women, speak out for God! Go with 
your brethren as far as they follow Christ. If they 
halt at the cross, obey God and go forward. The Lord 
Jesus Christ commands individuals, not crowds. Your 
brethren, your church, can not answer for you at the 
judgment. Let God work in you both to will and to 
do of his good pleasure. Be of good courage, and He 
shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord. 
Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in 
the land, and verily thou shalt be fed." 



80METH1N6 70 RV01B. 

LITTLE personal pique, a bit of wounded vanity, 
w$k a sudden flame of anger, often undoes the most 
substantial and faithful work, and nullifies the 



most intelligent and wise action. It is one of the pain- 
ful things in experience that effort is often defeated by 
these small, purely personal, and often momentary 
feelings, which are generally unintelligent and unwise. 
Life would be freed from some of its most painful feat- 
ures if men always acted to each other on a basis of 
real justice and intelligence, and left their personal feel- 
ings and prejudices out of sight. A man's work ought 

414 



SOMETHING TO AVOID. 



to be judged by itself and for itself alone, and the 
man's position ought to rest solely upon what he is able 
to do. And yet most of us are constantly neutralizing 
the best work of others because it is not done in our 
way, and are constantly failing to do justice to others 
because of some small personal prejudice against them. 
The really strong, clear-sighted man is the one who is 
able to put himself out of the question and judge others 
by what they really are and do, not by their relations 
to him. 

In this working w r orld there is neither time nor 
strength to be always coddling our small vanities, and 
still smaller prejudices. The world does not stand in 
order that we may be pleased. It stands as a place for 
the doing of honest work in the best way, and if that 
work can better be done in some other way than the one 
we prefer, our business is to let it be done and rejoice 
in it. 

If you wish to see things clearly, and to be just with 
your fellow-men, keep clear of the fumes of vanity and 
the thick atmosphere of mere personal feeling. Make 
it a rule to see what a man is and does, and to value 
him by these things. A person may be very distaste- 
ful to us and yet be eminently useful and successful in 
the world. 



We always find wit and merit in those who look at 
us with admiration. 



4i5 



W«T6H Y0UR WORDS, 

IJfEEP watch on your words, my darling, 
/V For words are wonderful things ; 
"iJp 5 They are sweet like the bee's fresh honey. 
Like the bees, they have terrible stings. 
They can bless like the warm, glad sunshine, 

And brighten a lonely life ; 
They can cut, in the strife of anger, 
Like an open, two edged knife. 

Let them pass through your lips unchallenged 

If their errand is true and kind — 
If they come to support the weary, 

To comfort and help the blind ; 
If a bitter, revengeful spirit 

Prompts the words, let them be unsaid, 
They may flash through a brain like lightning 

Or they fall on a heart like lead. 

Keep them back if they 're cold and cruel. 

Under the bar, and lock, and seal, 
The wounds they make, my darlings, 

Are always slow to heal. 
May peace guard your lips, and ever 

From the time of your early youth, 
May the words that you daily utter 

Be the words of beautiful truth. 



— E. C. 



The beam of the benevolent eye giveth value to the 
bounty which the hand disburses. 

416 



PR ABOVE BEAUTY. 

tN mv life I have known many women well. Among - 
them is a fair majority of what the truly appreciative 
r would call happy, for which fact I thank God, as it 
has helped me to take, on the whole, a hopeful view of 
life as well as human nature. Now, are these women, 
blest as many of them are with devoted husbands, 
cheerful homes, cultivated society, and leisure for the 
exercise of any special talent the}" may possess, beauti- 
ful women ? With one or two exceptions, no. Indeed, 
more than a few of them are positively plain, if feature 
only is considered, while from the rest I can single out 
but two or three whose faces conform to any of the rec- 
ognized standards of physical perfection. But they are 
loved, they are honored, they are deferred to. While 
not eliciting the admiration of every passer by, they 
have acquired through the force, sweetness, or origin- 
ality of their character, the appreciation of those whose 
appreciation confers honor and happiness, and, conse- 
quently, their days pass in an atmosphere of peace and 
good will which is as far above the delirious admira- 
tion accorded to the simply beautiful as the placid shin- 
ing of the sunbeam is to the phenomenal blaze of an 
evanescent flame. 



Fashion is only gold front jewelry, it may appear 
well, but the value is not there. 



4i7 



SUSIES wish. 

^OW I wish that dollars grew 
On a bush !" said little Sue — 
Pretty, blue-eyed Susie Snow- 
Thinking in an idle way 
Of a doll she saw one day 
In a window placed for show. 

" Go and seek for them awhile," 
Answered grandma, with a smile, 
" Where the berry-pastures spread ; 
Go with pails and baskets, quick, 
Where the blueberries are thick ; 
There the dollars are," she said. 



Little Sue ran down the hill, 
Crossed the brook beyond the mill, 
Reached the pastures stretching wide, 
With a shining prize in view, 
Now her fingers almost flew, 
Gathering fruit on every side. 

When the busy day was spent, 

With her berries home she went. 

" Oh !" she laughed as Grandma Snow 

Measured them, and every time 

Counted in a silver dime — 

" Now I see how dollars grow." 

— M. E. N. Hatheway. 



418 



60ME. 

fHE gospel is an invitation. The table is spread 
with the great bounties; the fountain of life and 
healing is open; all things are ready. The sinner 
has nothing to do in making the provision; Christ has 
provided and met the bill. All he asks of the sinner is 
acceptance; the surrender of himself and the taking of 
what Christ has to bestow. To you, fellow sinner, is 
this offer made — the offer of free and full salvation. 
The final utterance of the New Testament is the prof- 
fer of this invitation, in which Christ and his people 
join: "The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let 
him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him 
take of the water of life freely." No one need despair; 
no one need hesitate. You may be poor, halt, blind; 
your service may be of the poorest; no matter. You 
will never succeed on merit; but you may come freely, 
without money or price. Come just as you are to one 
that is mighty and able to save — to one inviting you 
to come. If you neglect such an offer, what excuse 
can you bear to the throne of judgment? What excuse 
can you make? 



Dr. Spring says: "I never knew an irreligious 
man to die joyous ; nor a religious man to die miser- 
able." 



419 



BE STEADFAST. 

UpE STEADFAST" — fixed in your convictions and 
fo pronounced in their defense, even though men 
count you narrow, obstinate, etc — "be ye steadfast, 
immovable " — not the slaves of the world, not unstable 
as water, not laboring- to shape yourself as the world of 
fashion, or the like would have you to be, but " always 
abounding in the work of the Lord, for as much as ye 
know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 

— Dr. John Hall. 



THE liOGKED 0OOR, 

i'WO friends once closed between them mutually, 
ffirfc A door with double locks, one on each side ; 
^p' With separate keys, fashioned with cunning art, 
Sure of himself, strong in fresh-wounded pride, 
Each, for his own side only, held the key. 

And thus for weary weeks they dwelt apart, 

Till one, at last, whose drooping tears had drowned 

The fire of wrath that in his bosom burned, 

Full of forgiveness, softly stole and turned 

The key ; then sought to ope the door ! but found 

The other lock still fast ; still locked the door ! 

Then the old anger leaped to sudden flame, 

And, laying on his friend's hard heart the blame, 

He shot again the bolt and turned once more 

To nurse, in bitterness, the re-opened wound. 

420 



THE LOCKED DOOR. 

That night the other thought of olden days, 

And melted in the memory ; they seemed 

So nearer than estrangement's later hours, 

That of the quarrel he thought he must have dreamed, 

And so unlocked the door ; yet all his powers 

Failed still to shake it- Then he muttered, " Fool, 

To think that stubborn churl would e'er repent !" 

And socket-ward again the bolt he sent. 

And thus before the first friend's wrath could cool, 

The other's heart grew hard again and kept 

The bar between them while they waked or slept. 

But one calm eve they both waked from a dream 

Of what has been, so clear foreshadowing, too, 

The golden prophecy of what may be ; 

Each rises in the moonlight's softened gleam, 

Resolves to try again all he can do, 

Once more before the barrier he stands ; 

And as, again, slowly each iron key 

Rasps in his rusted wards, an answering sound 

Comes from the other side. The great door flies 

Open and leaves the old friends, newly found, 

Lovingly looking in each other's eyes, 

With re-united hearts and firm-clasped hands. 

— C. W. Baker. 



We build barriers against the flood tide, we should 
place some restraint to all prosperity. 



The jest that gives pain is no jest. 

421 



LET HIM PROVE IT. 

PfHE most complete and satisfactory prosperity is 

W that enjoyed by the individual who has earned his 
^ good fortune by his own efforts It may appear 
like a herculean undertaking for a young man to go 
forth into the great, grasping, jostling world and fight 
the battle of life unassisted, but such a course is the one 
that leads generally to the most enduring success. 

44 If more fathers would take a course with their sons 
similar to the one my father took with me," observed 
one of the leading business men of Boston, " the boys 
might think it hard at the time, but they'd thank them 
in after life." 

11 What sort of a course ? " was asked. 

" Well, I was a young fellow of twenty-two, just out 
of college ; and I felt myself of considerable importance. 
I knew my father was well off, and my head was full of 
foolish notions of having a good time and spending lots 
of money. Later on I expected my lather to start me 
in business, after I'd ' swelled ' round a while at the clubs 
and with fine horse-flesh 

"Like a wise man, father saw through my folly, and 
resolved to prevent my self-destruction, if possible. 

14 ' If the boy's got the right stuff in him, let him 
prove it,' I heard father say to mother one day. I 
worked hard for my money, and I don't intend to let 
Ned squander it, and ruin himself besides. 

44 That very day father came along and handed me 
fifty dollars, remarking, 4 Ned, take that money, spend 

422 



LET HIM PRO VE IT. 



it as you choose, but understand this much : it's the 
last dollar of my money you can have till you prove 
yourself capable of earning money and taking care of 
it on your own account.' 

" I took the money in a sort of dazed manner, and 
stammered out, ' I — why — I — I — want to go into busi- 
ness.' 

l ' ' Business ! ' exclaimed father, contemptuously, 'what 
do you know about managing the mercantile business ? 
Get a clerkship and learn the alphabet before you talk 
to me about business.' Then he left me to ponder on 
his words. And that fifty dollars was the last money 
my father gave me, till at his death I received my part 
of the property. 

" I felt hard and bitter at the time I received the fifty 
dollars ; felt my father was a stingy old fogy, and men- 
tally resolved to prove to him that I could live without 
his money. He had roused my pride — just what he in- 
tended, I suppose. 

"For three days I looked about for a place to' make 
' lots of money.' But I found no such chance, and at 
length, I accepted a clerkship in a large retail store at 
four hundred dollars a year. 

"Another bit of my father's ' stinginess ' at this time 
was demanding two dollars a week for my board through 
that first year. 

" At the end of my first year I had laid aside two 
hundred dollars, and next year my salary being raised 
one hundred dollars, I had fiv^ hundred laid by. 

" One hundred cents meant more to me in those days 
than one hundred dollars had, previously. 

423 



TWO LITTLE OLD LADIES. 



"At the end of four years' clerking I went to my 
father with fifteen hundred dollars of my own, and asked 
him if he was willing to help me enter business. Even 
then he would only let me hire the money, two thousand 
dollars, at six per cent, interest. 

'" To-day I am called a successful business man. And 
have my father to thank for it. Those lessons in self- 
denial, self-respect and independence which he gave me, 
put the manhood into me. 

" Years afterwards, father told me it cost him the 
hardest struggle of his life to be so hard with his boy. 
But he felt it was the only course to make a man of me. 
Many a time we've laughed over that two dollar board 
bill." 



p/0 LITTLE 0li0 LMiKB. 

fVVO little old ladies, one grave, one gay, 
In the self-same cottage lived day by day. 
^F J One could not be happy, " because," she said, 
" So many children were hungry for bread ; " 
And she really had not the heart to smile, 
When the world was so wicked all the while. 

The other old lady smiled all day long 

As she knitted, or sewed, or crooned a song. 

She had not time to be sad, she said, 

When hungry children were crying for bread. 

So she baked, and knitted, and gave away, 

And declared the world grew better each day. 

Two little old ladies, one grave, one gay ; 
Now which do you think chose the wiser way ? 

— Maud Merrill 

424 



THIS Mf?E IS WH^T WE JWflKE IT. 

sK| ET'S oftener talk of noble deeds, 
M/ff And rarer of the bad ones, 
^^ And sing about our happy days, 

And not about the sad ones. 
We are not made to fret and sigh, 

And when grief sleeps to wake it: 
Bright happiness is standing by — 

This life is what we make it. 



Let's find the sunny side of men, 

Or be believers in it ; 
A light there is in every soul 

That takes the pains to win it. 
Oh ! there's a slumbering good in all, 

And we perchance may wake it ; 
Our hands contain the magic wand — 

This life is what we make it. 



Then here's to those whose loving hearts. 

Shed light and joy about them ! 
Thanks be to them for countless gems 

We ne'er had known without them. 
Oh ! this should be a happy world 

To all who may partake it : 
The fault's our own if it is not — 

This life is what we make it. 



425 



HE blue sky beams with brightness o'er me, 
The sailing clouds drift to and fro, 
^ The distance softly melts before me, 

The silver waves are all aglow ; 
But I have fairer, brighter visions 

Than those that greet my eyes to-day, 
For, twixt my soul and heaven's bright glory, 
The veil is partly torn away ; 
So happy I can only say, 

" Alone with Jesus !" 

The air is filled with strains of music, 

I hardly know that I am here, 
But almost fancy I'm in heaven, 

The songs of angels sound so near. 
And, while I hear the happy chorus, 

It seems that I can hardly stay ; 
But then, since Jesus is so near me, 

Heaven is not far away ; 

'Twere heaven itself e'en here to stay 
" Alone with Jesus." 

Should storm and tempest rage around me, 
And waves of sorrow flood my soul ; 

Should loved ones turn and frown upon me, 
And earthly ties be severed all, 

O, Jesus, thou would'st not forsake me ; 
The brightness of thy holy face 

Should chase away all gloom and darkness, 
And, sinking in thy loved embrace, 
My soul should find sweet resting place 
" Alone with Jesus." 

426 



PRAYER AND WORK. 

Alone with Jesus, when earth's praises 

Shall turn to hate, and scoff, and scorn ; 
Alone with Jesus in the sunshine, 

Alone with Jesus in the storm. 
And when the lengthened shadows tell me 

It is the close of life's short day, 
I'll sing one song of holy triumph 

To Him who's ever been my stay, 

Then fold my hands and pass away, 
"Alone with Jesus." 

— Mrs. Anna Crouch. 



PRAYER AND WORK. 

DEVOUT WRITER has said: -Work may dis- 
Jffil turb and dissipate our communion with God ; it 
* may weaken the very motive from which it should 
arise ; it may withdraw our gaze from God, and fix it on 
ourselves. It may puff us with conceit of our own 
powers ; it may fret us with annoyances of resistance ; 
and in a hundred other ways may waste and wear away 
our personal religion. The more we work the more we 
need to pray. In this day of activity there is great 
danger, not of doing too much, but of praying too little 
for so much work. " Lord, teach us to work ; Lord, 
teach us to pray." 

How may we preserve a due proportion between 
these two — work and prayer ? We are to remember 
that there is no well balanced living without whole- 
heartedness ; without a continual surrender of all to 
God ; with a fixed purpose to glorify Him in whatever 

427 



l'Ii.4 YEli ASD WORK. 



we undertake. To be fully consecrated to God and his 
service, according to his own word, is, therefore, the 
first requisite. 

Next in importance to this is a proper sense of our 
littleness and God's greatness No workman or work 
is necessary to the advancement of God's glory in the 
earth. Work is the privilege granted to us ; not a 
meritorious yielding of ourselves to God. His charac- 
ter is so ineffably glorious that to be linked in service 
with Him in any way is unspeakable condescension on 
his part. To know God and also ourselves enables us, 
therefore, so to work that holy communion with Him 
will be steadily maintained. And then, if we would 
have this connection unbroken, we should lovingly con- 
sider the example of our Lord, who, when upon earth, 
withdrew himself from human gaze to seek refreshment 
at the fountain sources of spiritual comfort. We are 
taught that "for our sakes" he thus fulfilled all righte- 
ousness. Think of his manner in the disciples' presence. 
Doubtless all along his toilsome way he "lifted up his 
eyes to Heaven" and called upon the Father. 

Partaking of his spirit, no one will so work as to lose 
the desire to pray ; on the other hand, no one will so 
pray as to abridge his relish or ability for work in the 
Master's service. 



Excessive labor is wrong, but judicious labor is the 
safety valve of life. 



428 



WORKERS AND WINNERS. 



|^-EEP striving; the winners are those who havj striven 
liM- And fought for the prize that no idler has won ; 
^Sf* To the hands of the steadfast alone it is given, 

And before it is gained there is work to be done. 



Keep climbing: the earnest and steadfast have scaled 
The height where the path-way was rough to the feet; 

But the faint-hearted faltered, and faltering failed, 
And sank down by the way-side in hopeless defeat. 

Keep hoping : the clouds hide the sun for a time, 

But sooner or later they scatter and flee, 
And the path glows like gold to the toilers who climb 

To the heights where men look over landscape and sea. 

Keep onward — right on, till the prize is attained ; 

Front the future with courage, and obstacles fall. 
By those, and those only, the victory's gained 

Who keep faith in themselves and the God over all. 

— Eben S. Rexford. 



BK GENER0US WHIliE «MVE. 

tHAVE felt that it is a great mistake to put off being- 
generous till after you are dead. In the first place 
^you lose the pleasure of witnessing the good that yon 
may do; and, again, no one can administer your gifts 
for you as well as you can do it yourself. It is a great 
pleasure to be brought into personal relations of that 

429 



JOHN AND JOE. 

kind, and to make people feel that you are not a phi- 
lanthropist in the abstract, but that you are interested 
in them personally and care for their welfare. In that 
way you benefit them not merely in a natural way, but 
you make them feel that men are really brothers, and 
they were made to help one another. That feeling is 
not only agreeable in itself, but it will be apt to prompt 
them to carry out the principle themselves. Put 
yourself into all you do, and let others feel that you are 
there. Do not only contribute to a charitable fund, 
but go yourself and help. It may seem inconvenient 
at first, but soon you will come to consider it worth any 
inconvenience. 

— G. W. Childs. 



CT'OHN has risen before the sun, 

||n His cows are milked and his horses fed, 

^C Joe is somewhere out with his gun 

Or lying soundly asleep in his bed. 
Tali weeds are waving in Joseph's field, 

Small and meager his corn appears, 
Small and meager will be the yield 

When it comes to shocking the shining ears. 

John pays cash when he has to buy, 

He never gambles, or drinks, or bets ; 
Joe gets on tick till his score runs high, 

Then pledges his farm to pay his debts ; 
And each contraction or new device 

Of springs and pulleys for catching fools, 
Joe buys — no matter how steep the price — 

To rust and rot with his other tools. 

430 



BRIGHT FACES. 

John's garden gives of the best to eat, 

tie's seldom bothered with doctor's bills ; 
Joe lives mostly on bread and meat, 

Stomach bitters and patent pills. 
John works hard with muscle and mind, 

Side by side with the world he stands ; 
Joe is daily falling behind, 

Losing his grip with both his hands. 

This relation is strictly true, 

Be no object to tell you a lie ; 
John and Joe lives neighbors to you, 

You know 'em as well as I. 
Whether you dwell where Nature fair 

Blushes with roses or pales with snow, 
John and Joe. are sure to be there 

Just as I tell you — 'specially Joe. 



BRIGHT FF6ES. 

NE of my friends who seems to have gained the 
' secret of perpetual youth and good spirits said : 
" Do you notice I always put on my sweetest, most 
unruffled expression when I'm in a hurry or get caught 
in a crowd, a thing I detest, or whenever I want to look 
worried, because most other women do look so like 
crazy frights in the least crisis?" It is not the great 
men or women who look the most borne down by re- 
sponsibility and anxiety. Gladstone showed less lines 
of care than a woman out on a shopping excursion on 
" bargain day." 

43i 



RbJIBJIBTER BOXES Of 7 [HUMP SYMPATHY. 

|0 not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and 
tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. 
Fill their lives with sweetness. Speak approving, 
cheering words while their ears can hear them, and 
while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by 
them ; the kind things you mean to say when they are 
gone, say before they go. The flowers you mean to 
send for their coffins, send to brighten and sweeten 
their homes before they leave them. If my friends 
have alabaster boxes laid away full of fragrant perfumes 
of sympathy and affection, which they intend to break 
over my body, I would rather they would bring them 
out in my wearied and troubled hours, and open them 
that I may be refreshed, and cheered by them while I 
need them. I would rather have a plain coffin without 
a flower, a funeral without an eulogy, than a life without 
the sweetness of love and sympathy. Let us learn to 
anoint our friends beforehand for their burial Post- 
mortem kindness does not cheer the burdened spirit. 
Flowers on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over 
the weary way. 



IRlTHER be a possessor or do not profess. The 
open sinner is not condemned of the Lord as the 
hypocrite. Jesus says to the worldly christians: 

I would thou wert cold or hot." 



432 



"JESUS LOVES ME." 

|F WAS sitting in my study, with my sermon almost done, 
f\ When there slowly up the stairway came the well known 
^~ children's song : 

" Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me," and I, listening, dropped the 

pen, 
For the truth so old and precious, never seemed so sweet as 

then. 

Of this love I have been writing, trying hard to make it plain, 
That people might believe it and find solace for their pain ; 
But that I should be his loved one, and that He my sorrow 

bears, 
Was a thought not fully pondered till that song came up the 

stairs. 

Well I knew that not a lily lifts its cup to catch the showers, 
But drinks in the sun's full treasures though the fields are filled 

with flowers ; 
The mother to her children never gives her love in part, 
But to each and every member gives an undivided heart. 

But somehow I'd miss the lesson, that, while Christ loves all 

the race, 
All his love is poured on me, through the fullness of God's 

grace. 
Now I bless Him I have learned it, for it cheers me on my 

way, 
And I ne'er shall cease to thank Him for the song I heard that 

day. 

—Rev. R. F. Coyle. 



433 




WINGS. 



WINGS. 

jtT;HAT matter it though life uncertain be 
(fji To all ? What though its goal 
^PW Be never reached ? What though it fall 
and flee, 
Have we not each a soul ? 

A soul that quickly must arise and soar 

To regions far more pure — 
Arise and dwell where pain can be no more, 

And every joy is sure. 

Be like the bird that on a bough too frail 

To bear him, gayly swings ; 
Carols though the slender branches fail — 

He knows that he has wings. 

—Victor Hugo. 



HONEST ANYHOW, 

UfT is one thing to be true to principle when surrounded 
H by those who are upright, and quite another thing 
"* when others are immoral. Moreover, when the 
world seems to be against a man and the clouds hang 
low r — this is the time to test his true nobility of char- 
acter. A good many years ago in one of the southern 
states a bright, active colored boy was offered for sale 
in one of the slave markets. A gentleman taking pity 
on the lad determined to buy him and insure him kind 
treatment. Before he bid for him, he said to the boy: 

435 



GOOD MANNERS AT HOME. 



"If I buy you will you be honest?" Quickly came the 
reply, "I will be honest whether you buy me or not." 
This was a noble answer. The poor slave boy could 
not allow his surroundings to make a difference in his 
relations with God. Honesty with him was not a mat- 
ter dependent upon others' treatment of him. 

The world will be very much better when men look 
above erring- human nature and allow divine influence 
to mold their thought and purpose. 



60QI3 MANNERS K% tf0#E, 

|HE presence of good manners is no where more 
fllW needed, or more effective, than in the household, 
^ and, perhaps, no where more rare. Whenever 
familiarity exists, there is a chance to loosen the check 
upon selfish conduct which the presence of strangers 
involuntarily produces. Many persons who are kind 
and courteous in company are rude and careless with 
those they love best. 

Emerson says, ' ' Good manners are made up of petty 
sacrifices," and certainly nothing can more thoroughly 
secure the harmony and peace of the family circle than 
the habit of making small sacrifices one for another. 
Children thus learn good manners in the best and most 
natural way, and habits thus acquired will never leave 
them. 

Courtesy and kindness will never lose their power or 
their charm, while all spurious imitations of them are 
to be despised. 

436 



THE ROYRIi W/W ©F THE 6R0SS. 

||E may spread our couch with roses, 

And sleep through the summer day,. 




But the soul that in sloth reposes, 
Is not in the narrow way. 
If we follow the chart that is given, 

We need not be at a loss ; 
For the royal way to heaven 
Is the royal way of the Cross. 

To one who is fond of splendor, 

The cross is a heavy load ; 
And the foot that is soft and tender 

Complains of the thorny road. 
But the chains of the soul must be riven,. 

And gold must be as dross ; 
For the royal way to heaven 

Is the royal way of the Cross. 



We say we will walk to-morrow 

The path we refuse to-day ; 
And still, with our luke-warm sorrow, 

We shrink from the narrow way. 
What heeded the chosen eleven 

How the fortunes of life might toss, 
As they followed their Master to Heaven,. 

By the royal way of the Cross. 



437 




BE PBLE JO SPY "NO." 

|lj|ANY a boy has entered the downward path 
i merely because he lacked courage to refuse his 
companionship to those who had already taken 
that road. Mrs. Bottome says : 

"It takes character to say 'No.' The three Hebrew 
children said, 'We will not serve thy God;' and there 
they rested. They had nothing to do with the result. 
If the king threw them into the fiery furnace, that was 
his business; and it was God's business to look after 
the fire when they were thrown into it. They simply 
said and acted, 'No, we will not. ' Dare to say 'No!' 



H BM6H7ED |r|0ME. 

*0 the weak and the strong a word I would say, 
It is for all that my words are to-day; 
A demon there is that lurks in the dark, 
Of good will and friendship he has not a spark. 

He despises the light, your lives he will blight, 
If you list to his voice in the darkness of night. 
He gloats in sight of the homes he has broken, 
By the absence of loved ones and other sad tokens. 

From the heads of kings he has torn off the crown, 
From the heights of glory he has cast men down ; 
He has taken the bread from the mouths of babes, 
And the love of home from the man he degrades. 

438 



A BLIGHTED HOME. 

As I look o'er the past a home I can see, 
A father, a mother, and a child there in glee ; 
The father is tall, honest, handsome and brave; 
Not a cloud does he see, not a joy does he crave. 

His home is so bright with gladness and song, 

He cares not to mingle with the death-dealing throng. 

His child is his idol, his wife is his pride, 

Through paths that are pleasant their footsteps he'll guide. 

Now, look again at the home of the drunkard : 
The wife's white brow with sadness is furrowed ; 
With husband she's pleading, with tears in her eyes, 
To stay with her dear one that near to death lies. 

But no ! from their side, with a blow and an oath, 
He leaves them in darkness. God pity them both ! 
He starts for the tavern, and with him he takes 
The shoes of the little one that he forsakes. 

He steps to the bar with the shoes in his hand, 

To pay for his rum this way he has planned ; 

He passes them over, the rumseller recoils. 

Oh, think of the many happy homes that he spoils ! 

" I cannot take these," the rumseller says, 
"O, take them back home, she will need them," he says, 
But the poor drunken wretch, says, 4< No !" to him now, 
" You have caused me to fall, and before you to bow. 

You have ruined my home, and prospects in life, 
You've taken my child, you've taken my life ; 
So give me the rum or by me you will be cursed, 
O, do take the shoes, and then do your worst ! " 

439 



A BLIGHTED HOME. 

The rum is refused the poor drunkard at last, 
By the very same man that gave the first glass ; 
£le reels to the door. Ah ! list to the sound — 
A report of a pistol, and a dull, heavy sound. 

The drunkard at last from temptation is free, 
No more to the demon will he bow the knee ; 
He is missed by no one ; his life was a spark 
That did not light home that now is so dark. 

Such scenes as this, my friends, you may see, 
In the homes where all should be gladness and glee ; 
But the rum-selling curse o'ershadows our land, 
And crushes our hopes like houses of sand. 

Let us go to the home of the poor drunkard's wife, 
And by our kind deeds let us brighten her life ; 
And fight the dread demon of rum from our door, 
Until all such sights shall be seen nevermore. 

— Herbert J. Leighton. 



No man or woman, however humble, can really be 
strong, gentle, pure and good, without the world being 
lielped and comforted by the very existence of good- 
ness. 



Be the kind of a man that you would like to have 
your boys become. 



440 



ft KIND WORD, 

KIND WORD costs but little, but it may bless 
¥i& the one to whom it is spoken all day. Nay, have 
~*~ ' not kind words been spoken to you which have 
lived in your heart through years, and borne fruit of joy 
and hope ? Let us speak kindly to one another. We 
have burdens and worries, but let us not, therefore, rasp 
and irritate those near- us, those we love, those Christ 
would have us save. Some one has given us these im- 
pressive words: "Speak kindly in the morning; it 
lightens the cares of the day, and makes the household 
and all its affairs move along smoothly. Speak kindly 
at night, for it may be that before dawn some loved one 
may finish his or her space of life for this world, and it 
will be too late to ask forgiveness." 



CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY. 

fHERE was once a man who had fallen over-board, 
and someone held out to him a plank lying on the 
^ J pier, one end of which was covered with ice. He 
reached out the plank to the man with the icy end to 
him. The man seized the end of the plank, and again 
and again his hands slipped off. At last he cried out 
in despair : " For God's sake give me the warm end 
of the plank!" This illustrates the truth that there 

441 



BE TRUE. 



must be the warmth of sympathy if we expect to move 
the intellect and will. Cold demonstrations do not re- 
form men; icy sermons and lectures, however grammat- 
ically written or properly delivered, will fall as useless as 
icicles on a stony pavement. Very proper, precise, and 
learned teachers are seldom useful. They shine, but 
the light that comes from them is like the sunshine re- 
flected from an icebure. There must be heat. 



BE TRUE. 

)E true to every impulse 
Within the upright soul, 
^ That pointeth toward duty — 
Like magnet to the pole. 

Be true to the affections, 

Wherever thou dost go. 
Free from the heart's deep fountains 

These glad'ning streams should flow. 

True to the soul's monitions ; 

True to the heart's best love, 
To friendships and to charities, 

To sordid self above. 

True to the land that bore thee, 

Loving its very sod ; 
Loyal unto thy country, 

Upright before thy God. 

— Mack Sterling. 



442 



T0-I37W 'IF YOU WILL |HEPiR HIS V01GE. 

S there some noble deed that you may do ? 
Some point to gain on high? 
^F Act now, and thus to thyself be true, 
To-morrow ye may die. 

Is there some cheering word that you may speak 

While day is passing by ? 
Go, let that precious word the silence break, 

To-morrow ye may die. 

Is there some grievous wrong that you may right, 

Or hush some deep drawn sigh ? 
Remember while so swiftly comes the night, 

To-morrow ye may die. 

Go, pour sweet balm into some wounded heart ; 

Go, wipe some tearful eye ; 
Let not the act undone with day depart, 

To-morrow ye may die. 

Yea, go, and make your peace with God and man 

Ere on your couch you lie ; 
Secure a crown of life, 'tis wisdom's plan, 

To-morrow ye may die. 



The right kind of a Christian character is something- 
that the devil's mud won't stick to. 



443 




DON'T SNEER. 

'ME pray you not to get in the habit of sneering. 
You may indulge this tendency until it utterly 
^^ J dest/oys the spirit of christian gentleness and 
kindness in your hearts. Your neighbors are full of 
faults, to be sure ; your fellow-christians fail to come up 
to the standard of their professions, it is true. But are 
these good reasons why you should become sour, cen- 
sorious and malignant ? What about yourself ? Are 
you perfect ? Suppose God should judge you as rigor- 
ously as you judge other people ? In that event where 
would you stand ? Be forbearing ; be magnanimous ; 
be Christ-like. Remember it is not easy to reach the 
highest levels of conduct, and do not expect of others 
what you fail to do in your own life. 



THE SECRET @P « HrWY H0ME. 

SHAVE passed into quiet parlors where the carpet 
is clean and not old, and the furniture polished and 
^ bright, into rooms where the chairs are neat and the 
floors carpetless, into the kitchen where the family live 
and the meals are cooked and eaten, and the boys and 
girls are as blithe as the sparrows overhead; and I see 
that it is not so much wealth and learning nor clothes 
nor servants nor toil nor idleness nor town nor country 
nor station, as tone and temper that renders home 

444 



HOME SONG. 



happy or wretched. And I see, too, in the town or 
country, good sense and God's grace makes life what 
no teacher or accomplishments, or means or society can 
make it — the fair beginning of an endless existence, 
the goodly, modest, well proportioned vestibule to a 
temple of God's building that shall never decay, wax 
old or vanish away. 

— Rev. John Ha.ll. 



HOME SONG. 

TAY, stay at home, my heart, and rest; 
Home-keeping hearts are happiest, 

For those that wander they know not where 
Are full of trouble and full of care ; 
To stay at home is best. 

Weary, and home-sick, and distressed, 

They wander east, they wander west, 

And are baffled, and beaten, and blown about 
By the winds of the wilderness of doubt ; 
To stay at home is best. 

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest ; 
The bird is safest in its nest ; 

O 'er all that flutter their wings and fly 
A hawk is hovering in the sky ; 
To stay at home is best. 

— Longfellow. 



Success is on the hill top, you cannot get there with 
out climbing. 

445 



IN GODS Q00D 7WE. 

r^OW hang the clouds, a leaden pall 
That shows no gleam of azure rift. 
But hark ! soft as a spirit's call 

" In God's good time the clouds shall lift.' 5 " 

Fierce break the billows at my feet, 

No hint of help my eyes discern ; 
But hark ! again a whisper sweet : 

" In God's good time the tide shall turn." 

Oh, heart, in this glad word abide, 

Repeated like a silver chime : 
Unharmed is he by storm or tide 

Who waits in faith for God's good time. 

— Mary B. Sleight. 



tT comes to me often in silence, 
When the firelight sputters low — 
^ When the black uncertain shadows 

Seem wraiths of the long ago ;, 
Always with a throb of heart-ache 

That thrills each pulsive vein, 
Comes the old unquiet longing, 
For the peace of home again. 

I am sick of the roar of cities, 
And of faces cold and strange ; 

I know where- there's warmth of welcome,. 
And my yearning fancies range 

446 



EXILED. 

Back to the dear old homestead, 

With an aching sense of pain. 
But there'll be joy in the coming, 

When I go home again. 

When I go home ! There's music 

That never may die away, 
And it seems the hands of angels, 

On a mystic harp at play, 
Have touched with a yearning sadness 

On a beautiful broken strain, 
To which is my fond heart wording — 

When I go home again. 

Outside of my darkening window 

Is the great world's crash and din, 
And slowly the autumn shadows 

Come drifting, drifting in. 
Sobbing, the night wind murmurs 

To the splash of the autumn rain ; 
But I dream of the glorious greeting 

When I go home again. 

— Eugene Field. 



MAN who is unable to discover any errors or mis- 
takes in the opinions he formerly held, is not likely 
to advance very fast in the acquirement of knowl- 
edge. 



Romance is one thing, but making an honest living 
and paying your debts is another. 

447 



THE TRUE PEACEMAKER. 

^ON'T be a grumbler. Some people contrive to get 
hold of the prickly side of everything, to run 
against all the sharp corners and disagreeable 
things. Half the strength spent in growling would 
often set things right. You may as well make up your 
mind to begin with that no one ever found the world 
quite as he would like it ; but you are to take your part 
of the trouble and bear it bravely. You will be sure to 
have burdens laid upon you that belong to other people, 
unless you are a shirker yourself; but don't grumble. 
If the work needs doing, and you can do it, nevermind 
about that other fellow who ou^ht to have done it and 
didn't. Those workers who fill up the gaps and smooth 
away the rough spots and finish up the jobs that others 
leave undone — they are the true peacemakers and worth 
a whole regiment of growlers. 



•business is business; 

IfHERE is a man who lives in the city of New 
W York who has accumulated quite a fortune by 
^ J simply advising people what to do. There always 
will be a large number of persons who are unable to 
rely on their own judgment. Others come to a conclu- 
sion with ease and certainty. 

A young man had accumulated si,ooo, and was de- 
bating whether he should buy a small candy store with 

448 



"BUSINESS IS BUSINESS." 

it or whether he should lend it on a mortgage. This 
latter he knew was the secure way. The other prom- 
ised great profits. In this perplexity he saw an adver- 
tisement: "Advice given to those going into busi- 
ness." 

After stating his case the counsellor said: " My fee 
will be $5 in advance." 

When this was paid, he asked: 

" Do you understand the candy business? " 

" No; I did not think it was necessary. I expect to 
supervise it merely." 

"Then you will lose all your money in three 
months." 

"You think I had better lend the money on the 
mortgage?" 

" I do not say that. What is your business; that is, 
what do you perfectly understand?" 

' ' I know the pickle business through and through. 
I can make pickles of all kinds but do not like it." 

1 ' Never mind what you like. Go and get a small 
place and make pickles. Go from hotel to hotel, res- 
taurant to restaurant, and sell them. In ten years come 
back and see me. You will have $10,000 at least." 

As the young man was going away he was called 
back. 

"Here is a card. I want you to put it where you 
can see it a hundred times a day." 

These w r ere the words on the card: "Business is 
Business. Men don't do what they like; they do what 
they can." 

The card had a strange fascination for him. He read 

449 



BUSINESS IS BUSIXESS." 



it with Care as he walked along the street. As he 
studied it new light seemed to enter his mind. 

He found a dingy basement, and began to arrange 
for his operations. Of course, vinegar must be got, 
several barrels of it. Some was offered him at ten 
cents a gallon, some more was shown at five cents. 
"Which shall I take?" He thought of the words on 
his card. He seemed to see people testing his pickles, 
and not liking them depart without buying. 

"They will know good vinegar," thought he; and so 
he bought the honest stuff. 

In a few days several tubs of the materials were 
ready, and he knew he must market them. Now he 
greatly hated to face strange people, and push his 
goods upon their notice. He never had courage when 
a boy, and now as a man he felt more timid, it seemed, 
but he thought of the words of the card, and entered 
a restaurant. The evident manager was a blooming 
young woman; and the pickle-dealer was more afraid 
of women than men. But "business is business" re- 
peated itself over and over in his mind. 

The answer to his statement was that his pickles 
should be tried, and if found all right, would be pur- 
chased. 

" Glad I got that good vinegar," thought the young 
man; and he began to feel that there was a certain 
power in the maxim his advisor had given. He began 
to feel a courage he had never expected in meeting 
people and trying to sell his goods to them. 

Calling at a store to get, if possible, an order for 
pickles in bottles, he was quickly and rudely met with, 

450 



"BUSINESS IS BUSINESS." 

"Don't want to see any such stuff." Noticing the 
utter dismay on the young man's face, the merchant 
said, short and sharp, "Don't you know enough of 
business to put up your goods attractively? " 

As he retreated, ruffled and disheartened, the maxim 
repeated itself over and over, with this additional 
sentence, "It is business to put up goods attractively." 
He sought out a lithographer, and had some hand- 
somely colored labels printed. 

"They will buy the bottles, " said a friend, just for 
the picture you have on them." 

When he had gained sufficient courage, he sought 
out again the merchant who had rebuffed him. "I 
wish to make you a present of a bottle of fine pickles." 

"Why do you make me a present of them? " 

"Because you gave me advice that is worth a good 
deal." 

The morning of one Fourth of July came, and he 
pondered whether to go to his store or not. All at 
once he thought, "People going on picnics will want 
pickles." It was the magic words on the little card 
that ran through his mind. He found as he thought, 
a large number of buyers waiting for him. 

The little card was consulted in all sorts of weather. 
If a man made a proposition to him of any kind, and 
he was in doubt, he would go and look at the words, 
and study them intently, trying to think their applica- 
tion to the case in hand. "Men do what they can," 
he reflected. "I would like to sell something else; but 
I know I can sell pickles." Then he returned. Now 
he was resolute and firm, although by nature easily 
swayed by the words of others. 

45i 



HAMJ KNOTS. 

" Business is business," he said. "I am in the 
pickle business. If I cannot make money this way I 
shall quit, and go into something else; but I will not 
have two kinds on my hands." 

It was a turning-point. After this he could refuse 
all influence to go into something at the time more lu- 
crative. 

He was not only industrious; it is plain he had a 
fixed principle of action. Of course he was successful. 
All men who put industry and mind to their work 
are bound to be successful. When the ten years were 
up, of course he had the $10,000 and more too. 



i|BlRY little three-year-old came to me stamping with 
Wvmf rap*e. because in trvinp- to untie her bonnet- 



-^ 



rage, because in trying to untie her bonnet- 
strings she had drawn them into a hard knot. 
She was pulling with all her might, but the more she 
pulled the tighter they became. 

At last she consented to let me untie them for her, 
but just as I began to get them loose, she would grow 
impatient and give them another jerk that would tighten 
them and cause another long delay. 

And I thought, it is just so with the hard knots of 
our lives. By our impatience we make them harder. 
We should patiently wait until the hard things can be 
straightened, the rough places made smooth. 

The little tangles in our daily life will not last long 
if we will only stand still and let God straighten them 
for us. 

452 



SOME MOTHER'S 6H1ED. 

tT home or away, in the alley or street, 
Whenever I chance in this wide world to meet 
A girl that is thoughtless, a boy that is wild, 
My heart echoes softly : " Tis some mother's child." 

And when I see those o'er whom long years have rolled, 
Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spirits are cold> 
Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled, 
A voice whispers sadly: " Ah ! some mother's child." 

No matter how far from the right she has strayed, 
No matter what inroads dishonor hath made ; 
No matter what elements have cankered the pearl — 
Though tarnished or sullied, she is some mother's girl. 

No matter how wayward his footsteps have been, 

No matter how deep he is sunken in sin ; 

No matter how low is his standard of joy — 

Though guilty and loathsome, he is some mother's boy. 

That head has been pillowed on the tenderest breast ; 
That form has been wept o'er, those lips have been pressed ; 
That soul has been prayed for in tones sweet and mild ; 
For her sake deal gently with some mother's child. 

— Francis L. Keller. 



Help somebody worse off than yourself, and you will 
find that you are better off than you fancied. 



453 



V/flTG|*|NG OUR 60NVERSRT10N. 

lOTWITHSTANDING the Divine word says that 

ill for every idle word men shall speak they shall 
give account thereof in the day of judgment, 
many really good people are constantly saying some- 
thing that kills their influence in the church, and hinders 
the growth of grace in their own heart. 

Recently during a severe storm, a dear brother who 
claims to enjoy the blessing of holiness, on coming out 
out of church, remarked: 

"I think it is time it stopped raining, we have had 
enough of it." 

Instantly a man whom the brother had often exhorted 
to lead a better life, replied: 

* ' You seem to know more about it than the Almighty, 
perhaps you can change affairs if you should take the 
lines in your own hands." 

Of course the brother felt hurt, as well as rebuked, 
but he was really at fault, as he had forgotten to set a 
watch upon his lips that the door of his mouth might 
be kept. 

When the time comes, (if it ever does) when chris- 
tians learn to have their conversation without covetous- 
ness, and such as " becometh the gospel of Christ," 
the world will have more confidence in Christianity, 
and God will be able to use them more fully to His 
glory. 



It is better to know when to say yes, and no, than to 
know the meaning of every word in the dictionary. 

454 



WING THE BEpGK 

GOOD STORY is told of a United States sena- 
tor who began life as a carpenter. 

"I will not always be a carpenter," he used to 
declare, for it seemed he had set his heart upon some- 
time entering the legal profession. He did not slight 
his carpenter's work for his day dreams of what he 
should do and become, but was noted for his honest, 
conscientious labor. 

One day the young man was planing a board that was. 
to become a part of a "judge's bench," when a friend 
observing his painstaking, inquired : 

" Why do you take such pains to smooth that board?"" 

Instantly the young carpenter replied : " Because I 
want a smooth seat when I come to sit on it." 

His friend laughed, and thought the joke so good 
that he reported it in the shop, and the young man was 
bantered not a little about the ''judge's bench." He 
always replied, good-naturedly : 

" Wait and see. He laughs who wins, and I may sit 
there yet." 

And he did ; but the distance between the carpenter's 
and judge's bench was paved with heroic struggles and 
self-sacrifice. 



The success of our friends pleases us until it sur- 
passes our own, and then we resent it. 



455 



WANTED— # CAREER. 

H TO do something," my heart kept repeating — 

"Something so beautiful, noble or fine, 
# That bright it should bloom like a flower in the 
desert ; 
That clear like a star in the. night it should 
shine!" 

Then I looked in the sky ; 'twas a-quiver already 
With star upon star, through the glittering night ; 

I looked o'er the land, 'twas a-flutter with flowers ; 
What need of my wee one to make it more bright ? 

Then I looked in my heart, and I saw 'mid its motives 
What from my own vision I gladly would hide ; 

Commingled with longings for art and for beauty, 
Ah ! much of ambition, of envy, of pride ! 

Then I looked where no star-beam e'er comes pene- 
trating, 
Where the flow'rs are crushed out in the unceas- 
ing strife, 
The pitiful struggle for merest existence 

That mockery makes of the thing we call life ! 

And I gave to a child that was wailing with hunger, 
The comfort, the beauty of every-day bread ; 

To a soul that was starving for sympathy's music 
A commonplace word of encouragement said. 

O, rich this new field for my thought and my labor, 
And soothed was my longing for beauty and art, 
For a flower sweetly bloomed on my own barren path- 
way, 
A star softly rose in my own shadowed heart ! 

— Margarite C. Moore. 

456 



m we ft/WE eppoRTUNgY- 

|S we have therefore opportunity, let us do good 
unto all men." Oh, how these words have cheered 
my heart. 

What a comfort it is to know the dear Master re- 
quires no more of us than we are able to do. Some- 
times when I look around and see so much to be done, 
such a harvest of souls to be gathered in, and the 
laborers so few, and they spending their time inventing 
machinery, seemingly indifferent as to the storm that is 
gathering over the fields, my heart cries out, Oh, that I 
could go forth, Oh, that I could snatch souls from de- 
struction; for I can say like Jeremiah of old, " His words 
are in mine heart like fire shut up in the bones, and I 
am weary with forbearing." 

But God knows best, perhaps it is a needed discipline 
that means are withheld, and time so limited. God 
will have a tried people, and they who are not faithful in 
the little, will never have the honor of much. 

How glad I am for that word "opportunity." Had it 
not been for that I should many times have been so dis- 
couraged as to believe it impossible for me to do God's 
will. But all His plans are perfect, His demands right. 
In the great reckoning day the question will not be 
asked how much have we done for the Master, but if 
we have improved our opportunities. What shall we 
answer? 



457 



Wanted, 

RANTED: Men. 

\|T Not systems fit and wise, 
l^S^l Not faiths with rigid eyes, 
Not wealth in mountains piles, 
Not power with gracious smiles, 
Not even the potent pen : 
Wanted : Men. 

Wanted : Deeds. 
Not words of winning note, 
Not thoughts from life remote, 
Not fond religious airs, 
Not sweetly languid prayers, 
Not love of scent and creeds ; 

Wanted : Deeds. 



Men and deeds. 
Men that can dare and do, 
Not longings for the new, 
Not partings of the old ; 
Good life and action bold — 
These the occasion needs ; 

Men and deeds. 



How much easier it is to sit by the fire and resolve to[do 
than it is to go out in the cold and do it. 



458 



WAIT. 

fSAW the proprietor of a garden standing at his fence 
and call to his poor neighbor: 

"Would you like some grapes?" 

"Yes, and very thankful," was the ready answer. 

"Then bring your basket." 

The basket was quickly handed over the fence. The 
owner took it and disappeared among the vines; and I 
marked that he deposited into it rich clusters from the 
fruitful labyrinth in which he hid himself. The woman 
stood at the fence quiet and hopeful. At length he re- 
appeared with a well-filled basket, saying, "I have made 
you wait a good while, but there is all the more grapes. " 

It is so, thought I, with the proprietor of all things. 
He says: "What shall I give thee? Ask and thou 
shalt receive." So I bring my empty vessel — my 
needy but capacious soul. He disappears; but I am nor 
always so patient and trustful as the poor woman. 
Sometimes I cry out, "How long! how long!" 

At last He comes to me richly laden, and kindly 
chides my impatience, saying: "Have I made thee 
wait long? See what I have treasured up for thee all 
the while." 

Then I look and see fruits richer than I had asked 
for, and I pour out my heart's thanks to my generous 
Benefactor, and grieve that I distrusted Him. Surely 
the longer He makes me wait, the more He gives. 



459 




GOOD NIGHT. 



G00D-N|G|H7, 

PI HERE is a tender sweetness about some of our 
M$f common phrases of affectionate greeting, simple 
^ and unobtrusive as they are, which falls like dew 
upon the heart. Good-night ! The little one lisps it 
as, gowned in white, with shining face and hands, and 
prayers said, she toddles off to bed. Sisters and 
brothers exchange the wish ; parents and children ; 
friends and friends. 

Familiar use has robbed it of its significance to some 
of us ; we repeat it automatically without much thought. 
But consider. We are as voyagers, putting off from 
time to time upon an unexplored sea. Our barques of 
life set sail and go onward into darkness, and we asleep 
on our pillows, take no such care as we do when awake 
and journeying by daylight. Of the perils of the night, 
whatever they may be, we take no heed. An unsleep- 
ing vigilance watches over us, but it is the vigilance of 
one stronger and wiser than we, who is the Eternal 
Good. Good and God spring from the same root, and 
are the same in meaning. " Good-bye " is only " God 
be with you." " Good-night " is really " God-night,"' 
or "God guard the night." It would be a churlish house- 
hold in which these gentle forms of speech were ignored 
or did not exist. Alike the happy and the sorrowful, 
day by day, may say " Good-night." 



461 



REST IN HEJWEN. 

HERE are no weary hearts in Heaven, 
Ifjpf No tired, aching feet, 
^ But joys and smiles innumerable, 
As saints each other greet. 

When in the new Jerusalem, 

We'll walk the golden street, 
And sing the praises of our Lord, 

Or sit at Jesus' feet. 

The storms of life which o'er us rise, 

And darken all our way, 
Will not be felt beyond the skies, 

For there 'tis always day. 

There in our Father's home above, 

The dwelling of the blest, 
We'll meet with loved ones 'round the throne, 

And there forever rest, 

A rest from sin, a rest from toil, 

From suffering and pain ; 
No earthly cares our bliss can mar, 

We'll not return again. 

Toil on, toil on, ye weary ones, 

With grief and sorrow pressed, 
'Tis but a little while below, 

Then joy and endless rest. 

— Mrs. Emma V. Sweeten. 




LIST OF AUTHORS. 

PAGE. 

Ashley, Sir Jacob 92 

Agassie, Prof 302 

Annable, George G 312 

Audenried, Nairjean 183-184 

Akers, Elizabeth 367 

Addison 399 

Burnham, Anna F * 16-17 

Bates, Katharine L 31 

Baillie, Joanna . . . 43 

Bray, M. L ! 113 

Beecher, Henry Ward 1 16-387 

Bonar 118 

Bacon, Lord 163 

Brooks, Phillips 174-320-327 

Brown, Theron 210-21 1 

Bolton, Sarah K 217-218-366 

Brown, M. C 257 

Baker, Mrs. L. F 317-318 

Brine, Mary D 329-330 

Burrows, John 349~35° 

Barbauld, Anna Letitia 396-397 

Baker, C. W . 420-42 1 

Chalmers, Dr 10 

Cuyler . 34 

Crofts, G. W 47 

Crandall, C. H 53 

Charles, Elizabeth R . 79 

Carlyle 92 

Colson, Ethel M 105-106 

Coolidge, Susan 1 17-205-206 



PAGE. 

Carter, Emma S 123 

Colton, George H 143 

Cooper, George 175-176 

Clymer, Ella D 233 

Carisbrooke, C. T ; 262 

Carter, Mary B 297 

Cary, Alice 400 

Coonly, Lydia Avery 35 1—352 

Crouch, Mrs. Anna 426 

Childs, G. W 430 

Coyle, Rev. R. F 433 

Doane, W. C 50 

Dutcher 71 

Delp, Daisy M '. 84 

Dwight, Timothy 143 

Downing, Andrew 240-241 

Dowd, Emma C 268 

Dews, Lucy M 287-288 

Dare, Sydney 346-347 

Embree, Isaac R 200 

Fowler, Cora M 1 1 1 

Farningham, Mariana 165-216 

Flemming, Paul 198 

Fields, James T 237-238 

Franklin 385 

Field, Eugene 447 

Gold, Grace. .41-42-77-78-145-146-149-150-151-234-269-306 

3i9-334-335-3;o-373-399-40i-402-452-454-457 

Gibson, J. Munro 291 

Gibney, Somerville 310 

Gordon, Gen , 328 

Havergal, Frances Ridley 12-137-144 

Howard, Clara M 30 

Holmes, O. W. . 40-87-185 

Holland, J. G 124 

Holt, Mrs. M. A 178 



PAGE. 

Harbaugh, T. C 279-280-281 

Hatheway, M. E. N : 418 

Hall, Dr. John .' . . 420-444 

Hugo, Victor 435 

Ingham, John Hall 284-285 

Judson, Edward . . . , 102 

Kidder, Mrs. M. A 26 

Kenney, M. E . 204-205 

Knowles, Mrs. J. H 355~35^ 

Keller, Francis L 453 

Linden, Anna 88-89 

Longfellow 260-445 

Larcum, Lucy. 336 

Larkin, Elizabeth T 359 

Leighton, Herbert J 438-439-440 

Miller, J. R 36 

Marsh, F 72 

Murphy, Marian .• . , 73 

McDonald, George 104 

Macaulay 112 

Miller, Hugh 117 

Moody, D. L 125-126 

McCobb, Mary S 212 

McCann, John Ernest 251 

Mountford, William 328 

Martin, Ella 380-381 

Morton, Eliza H 411 

Merrill, Maud 424 

Moore, Margarite C 456 

Neal, John 203 

Pexford, Eben. E 91 

Pensell, Perry 390 

Revell, A. H . 121 

Robertson, F. W 391 

Rexford, Eben. S 429 



PAGE. 

Spurgeon, C. H 19-162-163-188-239-296-383-391 

Silverthorne, Sylvia 52 

Scollard, Clinton 62 

Sloan, W. J 68 

Sangster, Margaret 1 08-109-1 19-157-215-265-266 

Shannon, E. H no 

Smith, Sidney 141 

Sickles, David B .' 148 

Stanley, Dean 148 

Smith, Senex 209 

Scott, A. F 244-245 

Spaulding, H. G 248 

Shakespeare 272 

Smith, Fred E 392-393 

Smart, J. S 410 

Sterling, Mack 442 

Sleight, Mary B 446 

Sweeten, Mrs. Emma V 462 

Taylor, Georgiana 236-237 

Tupper, Ellen Isabell 294 

Tynan, Katharine . 317 

Thaxier, Celia T\ v . 362-363 

Victoria, Queen 184-263-264 

Vough, A. M 277 

Vaughan, Rev. James 379 

Willing, Jennie F 65 

Walton, Isaac 67 

Williams, Mrs. E. E 153-154 

Wetherbee, Rev. C. H 166-171-172 

Wilcox, Ella Wheeler 203-300-371 

Watson, George D 259-260 

Weaver, Mrs. Nellie Mearns 339~340 






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